Letters From Balanor
by Melodyrider
Summary: Decades after the last band of champions to bear the name, the Emeperor of Balanor looks to find new heroes to take up the legendary mantle of Knights Dungeoneer.
1. Chapter 1

_The Dungeoneers and all associated locations are the product of a tabletop roleplaying campaign created and managed by Tim Richey. These stories are based on that campaign and were written at the behest of both Tim and the players involved.

* * *

_

The farmer's wife stirred the pot, noting with satisfaction that the stew was coming along nicely. Her children were growing restless, waiting for their father to return so they could sit down to dinner. A calf that had broken off from the herd earlier that day and somehow wandered into the woods. He'd been out looking for it ever since. Night was beginning to fall, and if he returned home empty handed, he'd have to go out looking tomorrow. She began to hum a happy tune so she wouldn't have to worry.

There was a sudden wrenching of the door as it burst open and the farmer hurried inside. Once fully inside, he slammed the door shut and reached for the wooden bar kept beside it. His clothing and legs were torn and his boots were soaked in blood, but he stood on steady feet. "Get back!" he warned his family as he slid the bar into place, mere moments before something began beating against it from outside.

The children began to scream and the wife slowly backed away from the fireplace. "What's going on?" she cried.

"There's no time!" the farmer replied, pressing against the door with his shoulder to hold back the attacker. "Get the hammer and nails, hurry! We need to reinforce the door!"

She slid along the wall of their cabin, moving toward the cabinet where the tools were kept, but never taking her eyes from the door. She passed by a window and in the corner of her eye noticed a dark shape. Slowly, almost against her will, she turned her head to see what it was.

The largest wolf she had ever seen in her life was staring back at her. It was enormous and broad, able to look through the window without standing on its hind legs. The fur was thick and dark, and its snout was rippled and blunt, almost like a boar's. It regarded her, teeth barred and hot breath fogging the window. Her eyes locked with its, and she could sense it measuring her up and finding little. A scream crept up her throat and found its release the moment the creature reeled back and slammed its shoulder against the wall.

She stumbled, but kept her footing and dove for the tools, bringing them over to the door while the children clung to each other and continued to scream hysterically. "Grab some wood!" the farmer yelled at them. "The table, the chairs, anything!" The oldest, beginning to mature but not quite old enough to join his father on trips to the woods, was the first to shake off his panic and do as he was bid, tipping over the dining table and struggling to break off its legs. The other children followed his lead and soon the whole family was scrambling for wood.

By the time the door was nailed shut there were blows shaking the house from all sides, and the remaining wood was used to board up the windows. As they worked, steaks of gray passed their sight, but none saw the beast that had been staring at them at the start of the attack. The farmer ably directed his family, though all could see that his fear matched their own.

Once the last nail was hammered and the house was completely locked away, the farmer and his family huddled in the middle of the cabin, where tears flowed and screams renewed while the walls continued to shake. Then, as if conceding that the cabin was impregnable, the attack stopped, and all was silent.

"Are they gone?" the youngest daughter asked.

"I don't know," the farmer replied. Cautiously, he rose to his feet and stepped to a window to peek through a crack between the boards. Outside was only the still night, and the farmer began to relax, thinking the wolves had left.

A loud snapping was all the warning he and his family got before the roof collapsed.

* * *

Your Grace,

When Father Gunther and I first approached you with our proposal to found a new generation of Royal Dungeoneers by fostering remarkable young individuals rather than waiting for a band of knights to prove their worth, you expressed your doubts but asked me to inform you if I should note any who show such promise. I am pleased to inform you that I have.

I have recently deputized four young men and women whom I feel show great promise, and have assigned them to make circuit rides to the surrounding farms of New Cestin while I concentrate on my duties here. This has not only permitted me to measure their potential, but has provided some needed relief while I recover from an unfortunate bout of crippling headaches that have beset me of late.

These four children have performed their duties well and I believe merit further attention. I haven't the time to give you full biographies, so I hope these brief summaries will suffice.

George Tucker Junior: You of course already recognize his name thanks to the exploits of both his father and grandfather. This young man has quite the merchandising spirit but is also a skilled knife fighter. Regrettably, his most recent business venture had tragic consequences and his brother appears to be the primary cause of its failure. If his energies can be directed away from thoughts of vengeance he will do well.

Khana Storm: Another relative of an Alderman you know here. She is the niece of Sebastian Storm, and her mother was an elven bladesinger. Her ambition to become a knight has been frustrated by a lack of any willing to take her as a squire. She has recently returned to New Cestin to work at the local Hearthstone Inn. I have personally seen to her training in the art of swordplay and feel that she may do well as the leader of the group.

Raina: This young lady arrived in New Cestin a decade ago with no known parents or family. She has caused me no shortage of trouble since her arrival, but has taken to my tutelage with more skill than I ever could have imagined. There is more to her than I am mentioning here, but I feel it best to wait until we can speak in confidence before I bring this forth.

Zachary Beard: An amazingly talented Lay Healer. He can be a bit absentminded at times but he is a loyal friend to the other three and his skills will no doubt be of much use should they bite off more than they can chew.

One last thing I am reluctant to mention, but feel it cannot be avoided. Raina and long have I tried to deny this for her sake as well as my own, but we have each developed feelings for the other and have confessed to this. I feel the only honorable thing I can do is make her my wife and she has consented to take my hand. Despite the complications I know you will see in this, I hope you will offer your blessing to our union.

I'm afraid I must now report something of a grim nature. During a recent trip to a farm north of here, my new bailiffs discovered a cabin with the family slaughtered inside. The assailants entered through the roof and there is evidence that a pack of wolves may have been at the center of the attack, although such behavior is extremely unnatural, leading me to suspect the involvement of something more sinister. We have also learned that other farms have suffered losses of grain and livestock, but no other attacks against the citizenry have been reported. A general warning has been sent out while we investigate the matter.

I must close this letter now as I feel another headache coming on.

yours,

Alexander Stone KW PWd

H.M. Sheriff of New Cestin


	2. Chapter 2

_The Dungeoneers and all associated locations are the product of a tabletop roleplaying campaign created and managed by Tim Richey. These stories are based on that campaign and were written at the behest of both Tim and the players involved.

* * *

_

The pack swept forward in a great gray wave, descending upon the four young warriors with murderous intent. Khana and Raina bravely stepped forward while Tucker stayed behind to protect Zach. As the two women readied their swords, a pair of throwing knives sped past them and dropped a couple of wolves before the battle could formally begin.

"He's only got six of those," Khana said as she chopped down her first wolf. "I still think I should be the one protecting Zach."

Raina was swinging her sword in typical fashion. Her weapon of choice was a massive blade that bested her in size, and though she had the strength to use it with only one hand, the poor balance made it impossible to tell if she was swinging it or if it was swinging her. To any watching from a distance she looked quite ridiculous. Still, as the wolf she had just sliced in half discovered, it made little difference when it came to raining destruction on her foes. "Less talk, more fight!" she told her companion through clenched teeth.

The wolves quickly surrounded the two, and while the battle was going badly for the pack, they still managed to get a shot or two of their own in. Meanwhile, Zach had taken cover behind a rock and had momentarily forgotten about the battle as he examined a small patch of basil that was growing in an unusual pattern. Tucker, however, had not lost track of the dangerous skirmish, or Zach. As he loosed his last two throwing knives he backed up a step and "accidentally" trampled the basil while drawing his sword.

The last wolf on Raina fell just in time for her to see the warg who had been leading them drop on her, slapping her down with its massive paw. She cried out once, and then again when it seized her in its jaws and shook her about like a chew toy. Blood began to gush from her chest and when it tossed her aside she had trouble rising to her feet.

"Raina!" Khana screamed. Two wolves held her at bay, leaving her unable to run to her friend's aid. "Tucker! Zach! She needs help!" They were already running into the fray, however, and Tucker bravely stood before the warg, sword at the ready and no fear in his eyes. Zach knelt before Raina and hurriedly worked to stop the bleeding.

The warg snapped at Tucker, who ducked out of the way and swung in return. Khana felled her last wolf and turned to join her friend. She unleashed a furious barrage of swordthrusts, blades and arms moving so quickly they becaught naught but a blur, yet the warg still managed to sidestep every blow. Tucker struck at its flank, but only managed a glancing blow. The creature seemed to anticipate every move and respond accordingly, and Khana and Tucker began to lose ground.

Shrugging off Zach, Raina struggled to rise. "I'm all right, Zach," she said. He continued to protest that his work was incomplete but she cut him off as she retrieved her sword. "I said I'm all right!"

"The pits you are!" a gruff voice from within her mind suddenly interjected. "Sit back, girl. I'm taking over." A slight change fell over Raina's eyes, and a moment later she charged at the warg with an untamed ferocity.

Hitting it from the side, she created a huge gash up its leg and it howled in agony. It stumbled away and the other two managed to sting it with their own weapons. Again Raina struck, slicing along its back. Growing desperate, the warg hurled itself at Raina and slashed at her with its claws, digging deep and reopening her previous wounds.

Tucker and Khana fell on it and drove it back while Zach again moved to aid his friend. The creature, now severely wounded, was unable to dodge the attacks any longer and determined to give as good as it got. It turned and swiped at Tucker, knocking him back, but at that very moment Khana swung low with one blade and high with the other. The second blade struck home, slicing the warg's face and opening its left eye like a ripe tomato.

Now nearly blinded, the warg's attacks became even more random and ferocious. Khana took a nasty hit to her shoulder, but she was ready for it and held firm. As one, she and Tucker stepped forward and thrust, impaling the creature with all three blades. The monster shook, throwing the two away from it, rage giving it strength even as its life drained away. It reared up on its hind legs to prepare a final, desperate attack on one of its two opponents.

It forgot about the third.

Despite the pain, Raina spun away from Zach, grabbing her sword and rolling to her feet right underneath the warg. She braced the sword against her palm and thrust, impaling its heart in a spectacular blow. It howled and dropped next to her, one paw draped over her leg.

"Yes!" Raina yelled, and spit at the dying warg.

"I'm sorry," it replied in a ragged, gasping breath.

"What?" Raina said, and to her horror, the creature lifted its head to stare at her and began to shift. "No," she whispered as the transformation spread. "No!"

And the tears came. "No!!!"

Khana and Tucker rushed forward, trying to pull Raina back, but she broke free and hurled herself at the still form lying before them.

"Alex!!!"

* * *

Your Majesty, 

My prayers send that this letter finds you in good health. I wish to discuss recent matters that I believe warrant your attention. First I would like to inform you that the new sheriff and Baron have been working out fine, though we are still very saddened by the untimely death of Sir Alex. This is not the purpose of my letter, however, so I shall move on.

The four youths who have been working as bailiffs here in New Cestin have been performing remarkably and I believe they should be observed by your men for consideration as Dungeoneers. They still have their rough edges, but I think very soon they will prove their worth and it would be a shame if it escaped your attention.

You have no doubt been kept abreast of the bandit attacks which have plagued the high end of the valley for the past year. Giants, orcs and hobgoblins working together is a matter of concern no matter where it happens, but it is of particular concern out here. These four children not only discovered the location of their keep in Nye Valley, but conquered it before Spring had barely set in. I'll admit, securing it with a regiment of goblins who took tapestries for payment was a bit unorthodox but the results are still impressive. Had winter not set in, I expect they would have pulled this off even sooner.

But then again, had winter not set in, I would not have been able to personally observe these four working together and learn enough to warrant this letter. Several times I have tried to increase their ranks in order to aid their development, but being the industrious sorts they are, they have had more luck taking care of this on their own. The details of this follow.

Pastor Reece. How grateful I am that this young man has been sent to take over my parish when I expire. Never have I had more reason to remain amongst the living than after having met him. I sent him with the children with the excuse that having a chaplain in attendance would be good for morale. In truth, I simply couldn't stand to have him constantly undermining me while I'm still capable of the business of the Church on my own. No matter the reason, it may not have been my best decision. The boy took it upon himself to "provide" for my young ward, Raina, by informing her he would marry her and take her away from adventuring and such. She refused in a manner that was not only impossible to misinterpret, but was also slightly illegal. I will spare you the details because I do not wish to cause you alarm. Suffice to say that he has diverted his attentions to another local girl who appears more receptive to his advances.

The expert on giants you sent, Mr. Cordaine, proved to be quite valuable over the course of the winter. I'm pleased to say that his services no longer needed and I am sending the letter with him as he returns to meet with you. You may have to smooth things over with him a little, however. It appears the children made light of the fact that his reputation has not extended out to our humble town. I'm sure he will fill you in on the details so I will let it rest here.

During their investigation, the children rescued a young magician named Almonzo who had been kept hostage by the hobgoblins bandits and forced to aid them in their raids. At first it wasn't entirely clear he could be trusted, but over the winter his aid proved indispensable and we have all grown rather fond of him, and his cooking. Mostly his cooking. I expect we will see more of that lad in the future. Still, I think it would be prudent to check on him if it is at all possible. He claims to hail from Harborland if that helps at all. I believe he can be trusted, but with the sensitive nature of recent events it couldn't hurt to check.

Unfortunately, while the bandit raids may be over, a matter of greater concern has arisen from it. Letters bearing the seal of Prince Rackshaw were found in the keep with instructions for where the giants were to strike next. We have been unable to contact him to certify these letters as fakes, and will have to investigate further. Should this truly turn out to be a conspiracy we shall inform you immediately, though I pray it is not.

I wish you and your family the best and again urge you to have these four young men and women watched. They are sure to impress you.

yours in God,

Gunther


	3. Chapter 3

_The Dungeoneers and the associated setting is the product of a tabletop roleplaying campaign created and managed by Tim Richey. These stories are based on that campaign and were written at the behest of both Tim and the players involved.

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_

"Excuse me, I'm looking for a 'Mr. Tucker.'"

"That'd be me," Tucker said. The group was settling in to the Hearthstone Inn at New Port, eager to continue their investigation of a spate of curious pirate raids. The last rays of waning sunlight traced a deep orange glow through the windows of the establishment.

"I have this message for you," the man said, handing him a scrap of paper. Tucker glanced it over and his face clouded.

Khana looked at him with concern. "What is it, Tucker?" she asked.

"He's here," was all he said, passing her the note and storming out of the Inn. Khana read the note herself and she too glowered.

"Jed."

New Port was one of the central trade hubs of Balanor. Goods from all over the Empire traveled through the city, allowing it to enjoy a level of prosperity few others could hope to strive for. Such was the city's wealth that it could accommodate _two_ Hearthstone Inns. Tucker walked purposefully toward the other Inn, ignoring the shopkeepers lining the streets. When he reached his destination, he had a brief chat with the man at the front desk and learned his brother's room number.

Without hesitation he climbed the stairs of the Inn and invited himself into the room. Surprisingly, the door wasn't locked. Instead of finding his brother, patiently waiting to be arrested, his eyes fell on a striking young lady in flimsy evening wear who was seated next to the bed.

"Well, well," she purred as she sized him up appreciatively. "You Tuckers _are_ a handsome lot. Must be that good country living."

Tucker struggled to focus on his purpose for barging in. "I'm here for my brother," he told the alluring redhead. "You'd best leave."

"How boring," she said, but rose to her feet and draped a snug cloak about her. "You don't mind if I take my things, do you?" she indicated a small chest on the floor. Tucker considered it, then nodded toward the door. She gifted him with a dazzling smile and bent over to pick it up, watching him intently as she displayed an alarming amount of cleavage in the process. She stepped toward the door, but paused next to him. "May the best... Tucker... win." she said, and sauntered away.

Tucker shook his head and shut the door. This was not the time for pretty redheads. He moved to the window and saw his brother walking down the street and into the Inn. Sliding into a dark corner, he waited.

The door swung open and inside stepped Jed, followed by a very large and intimidating minotaur. Tucker stepped into the light, a throwing knife in each hand. "Jedidiah Tucker, by the power vested in me by the court of King James, you are under arrest." He took another step. "Please resist," he spat.

Jed's eyes widened, but he quickly recovered and painted on a smile. "Brother! How good to see you! Can't we talk about this?"

"If you want to talk, you can do it with the fourteen good men who died so I could escape from Redrum's fort... where you abandoned us all!"

Jed glanced at the minotaur. "My brother means to kill me," he said in a measured voice. The minotaur charged, and Tucker threw his blades, catching his brother in the leg with one of them. Jed yelped and fled the scene while the other two were occupied.

Limping down the stairs, he found his way cut off at the bottom by Khana and Raina. Khana held up her hand and began to quote, "Jedidiah Tucker, by the power vested in me by the court of King James, I place you under-" Meanwhile, Raina simply hauled back and punched Jed in the face, dropping him.

"Raina!" Khana said in a scandalized voice. "You're not supposed to do it like that!"

"So? It worked."

"Well, yes, but there are procedures!"

"I don't like him. And neither do you."

"Fine!" Khana said. "We'll do it your way." Jed was slowly rising back to his feet and preparing to say something when Khana sent him back to the floor with another heavy blow. Just then the sound of a window crashing and something heavy landing outside told them the battle upstairs had changed venues. "You take care of him," Khana said, and dashed outside.

In the street, Tucker was doing his best to fend off the minotaur on top of him. He'd been lucky to survive the fall, the impact leaving him dazed and grimacing with pain, but he refused to yield. The struggle came to a sudden halt when two new blades appeared, one touching the minotaur's neck, the other going further south. "What shall it be, mariner?" Khana asked. "Leave whole, or stay here in pieces?"

The minotaur looked up at her and knew he was beaten. He rolled off Tucker and backed away. "It does not end here," he said. "My Captain _will_ have the map!" with that, he stepped into the darkness and vanished.

* * *

Master Ro'nas,

I have some important news I must pass on to you. My companions and I have just been made official Dungeoneers by the King. It seems I've come quite far in the year since Khana and the others rescued me. This position does impart certain responsibilities, but I have been given some latitude so that I can maintain my studies and I'm looking forward to returning to complete my training with you.

If you're wondering how we managed this, it relates to a conspiracy involving Prince Rackshaw of Scarlet Hills and a group of rogue giants. It turned out he was connected to my kidnapping so I was more than eager to lend my aid, but once we discovered where he was hiding, the King made us sit around and wait while he dealt with the political ramifications of the situation. I guess he realized we wouldn't be happy doing nothing, so he kept us occupied with a seemingly endless string of minor missions. We also undertook a journey on our own to find a cure for a deadly malady Khana's Uncle developed. Fortunately, we were successful and he is doing well now.

The most significant mission during that time was our investigation of the pirate raids up north. This was my companion's first trip out to sea and they were very relaxed about it for country folk. Khana was actually a bit too relaxed. She kept walking around the deck in full armor! If she had fallen overboard she would have sunk straight to the bottom of the ocean. While I understand her lack of familiarity with the ocean, I had expected her to appreciate the concept of gravity a bit better.

Khana's like that. She drives me absolutely crazy. I don't know if it's because she's half elven or because she's a backwards country girl, but she's nothing like the women of Harborland. Every time I'm around her I feel like I'm back in my grandfather's time, and she always thinks she's right! I mean, she's not all bad, and she tries to be nice, but we don't see eye to eye on anything.

In New Port we ran into Tucker's brother, Jed. He was actually working with the pirates to find some sort of secret dragon's hoard, but Tucker caught him and pressed him for information. Jed's the sort who will lie, cheat and steal to get what he wants, and he's pretty clever, too. It didn't save him this time. Now he sits in a dungeon and everyone who knows him hopes he will stay there.

The pirates themselves attacked us after we left New Port. The whole crew were minotaurs, led by Prince Kulgor. We took them out but one of them, named Shaft, was thrown overboard for suggesting we'd be willing to negotiate instead of fight. After the battle Tucker had a chat with him and decided he liked him enough to bring him along with us. Tucker often makes unusual deals like this, but they always seem to work out. I really think he should say something to him about his name, though. Raina and Khana keep giggling every time someone says it, but that's his business, I suppose.

After we returned to Portlandia, Tucker purchased the ugliest sailing ship I've ever seen in my life, but its looks are deceiving. It's gnome-built, and is not only incredibly fast but seems to be nearly indestructible. Everyone calls it the "Rude Snail" because that's what it looks like. The true significance of this ship, however, lies in its engine. The engine is magical and provides more energy than it consumes. This is a major breakthrough and I know of several circles that would love a chance to study it. Tucker immediately made Shaft Captain of the ship after the purchase was complete.

When we got back the King finally gave us permission to go after Prince Rackshaw, and we were off again into the western mountains. We had barely even settled in, but I was glad to be back in the field. Khana may be annoying and bossy while we're out on missions, but when she's working at the Hearthstone Inn her Uncle runs she just bugs me constantly. The only reason I think I put up with her when she's like that is because she actually looks quite pretty when she's not wearing that armor.

Oh, that reminds me. A while back when they were gone on a mission without me, a bounty hunter named William stopped by and asked me a few questions about Khana. If he should make his way out to you, please don't tell him anything. I don't think I fully trust this fellow.

I hope your research is going well. The documents you requested are included with this letter. I don't want to question your decisions, master, but I fear you are delving too close into the dark arts and may conjure forces best left untouched. I have discussed this with Zach, who is a skilled herbologist and he has confirmed some of these suspicions. Is there any way I can persuade you to seek other avenues on this matter? I will lay over for the winter here in New Cestin, but I plan to return to you come Spring and perhaps we can discuss it.

your humble student,

Almonzo


	4. Chapter 4

_The Dungeoneers and the associated setting is the product of a tabletop roleplaying campaign created and managed by Tim Richey. These stories are based on that campaign and were written at the behest of both Tim and the players involved.

* * *

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Ghorn thought it was a good day.

The orc chucked a book into the bonfire and watched the flames eat away at it. The meat roasting on the spit above was dripping its juices into the pile and the entire cave filled with the aroma. They would eat well tonight, and it was a good day.

The discovery of the library in the next cave had been an omen of their prosperity. He never realized books burned so well, and was glad to know they were not as useless as he originally thought. Ghorn looked at the pile that had been gathered to the side and chose a thick tome from within it. He chuckled as he leafed through the yellowed pages which cracked with each turn. Silly humans, why make such wonderful fuel for fires and then leave them to age for so long?

Ghorn's mate met his eyes as he walked back toward the fire. She smiled and licked her tusks. He returned the smile and scratched vigorously at his armpit. There was no time for fun before dinner, but there would be much time after, so there would be much fun. They would need more books for the fire, for this was a good day.

He reached out, ready to drop the book, when seven humans stepped into his cave. They had their weapons drawn and the other orcs ran to attack them. This was not right. How did they find the cave? What did they want to steal? They were ruining the peace of his cave. He grew angry and yelled orders to his tribe, hoping they would slay the intruders quickly.

The humans did not fall down and die, however. Swords flashed in every direction, cutting the orcs to pieces. The intruders didn't even seem to be putting much effort into it. Ghorn stared with disbelief, frozen in place by the fire, the ancient book still held above. That's when the humans noticed him.

Most of them turned back to the other orcs, but two of them stared at him and the color drained from his face. They looked to the side and saw the pile of books, and their faces contorted with rage and dismay. Ghorn's knees began to shake. It seemed to him whole cave faded from view and all he could see were these two men staring at him.

One of them yelled something, alarming him. Ghorn dropped the book and as it sank into the fire, the other man let out an anguished cry. Was this their weakness? Did hurting the books harm them? Perhaps he had power over them after all. He tried to think of what to do next, but one of the men pointed a glowing wand at him and the other had just thrown two very large knives his way. Somehow it occurred to him that he hadn't hurt them. He had made them very, very angry and now he was about to die.

Ghorn thought it was not such a good day after all.

* * *

Your Imperial Majesty,

I hope I have not kept you waiting too long for this report. The investigation of King James' new Dungeoneers is closed. My conclusions are that they were not involved in the conspiracy to start a war with the giants, and that they are an asset to the Empire. I shall present evidence that I believe supports these findings, and should you find fault with it I will reinstate my investigation or step aside so that another may take over.

Posing as a common bounty hunter, I joined the group as they investigated reports of human corpses and body parts found in the river near the village of Bergan. The Dungeoneers interviewed the local authorities and then checked the surrounding countryside. On a high hill, they discovered a hidden entrance to some kind of dwelling, and near that, a pipe poking from the ground.

A plume of smoke was venting from the pipe and one of their number suggested that plugging it up might drive the occupants out. This was done and before long a disheveled cook came stumbling out and was quickly seized. Upon questioning he explained that a secret school of necromancy was in operation within. Suitably repulsed, the Dungeoneers stormed the place, moving from room to room and confronting the headmaster just as he was about to complete his unholy ritual.

Among the treasures they laid claim to after all the necessary protocols were worked out was a rather large library of rare books found within the school. These books were later given to the medical school in Pomajar in order to persuade them to help one of their number work toward his degree there. Their Lay Healer is so well thought of amongst them that not only did they aid him in his studies, but so did a young lady who was studying at the school, as well as the scribe who had just been assigned to the group to chronicle their exploits. This young man proved to be more than capable, and despite the school's reluctance to reward such unconventional methods, they were forced to concede that he deserved to graduate.

By then local Barons and Dukes had taken to requesting the Dungeoneers by name, and not always for matters that required the entire group to resolve. In one such case, only two were needed to find a kidnapped war dog and break up the illegal dogfighting ring that it had been pressed into.

Most recently, however, was an assignment that did call for all of them, and by coming along I received all the insights I need to establish the conclusions to my report. It involved a request from Baron Blain to deal with the haunting of his personal home. As it turned out, it was only thieves who wanted to search for a hidden treasure unmolested, and they were easily dealt with.

Almonzo, the newest member of the group, is a mage who has grown fairly comfortable in New Cestin, offering his services as a cook at the local Hearthstone Inn when they are not off on a mission. While rooting out the thieves I was surprised to see how protective he was of their leader. He and Tucker also displayed an inordinate amount of concern over some books that were found in a secret passageway.

Tucker, an entrepreneur and philanthropist, has shown great enthusiasm in conducting the business that usually follows the completion of their missions. While he has the guile to have been involved in the conspiracy to start a war with the giants, he has too much invested in his quest for justice and profit to make him a likely suspect. As previously mentioned, he and Almonzo are quite fond of books. During this mission, a passage leading to a secret library was found. From there we took another passage leading to an orc warren, where the residents were using the books to feed a bonfire they had built to provide heat and light. While the rest of us fought in self defense, these two took it far more personally.

Zachariah Beard, the Lay Healer I mentioned, offered his services and his often surprising insights during the investigation. He is far too gentle, honest and easily distracted to be involved in any conspiracies. It is thanks to him their scribe survived this mission. The scribe has since decided he does not like the taste of danger and has moved on.

Raina, a remarkable young lady who has created the impression of being the wild one of the bunch, has proven to actually be very level headed and possess almost as much of a talent for business as Tucker. She harbors a deep hatred of hill giants and would probably like nothing better than a war with them, but her feelings are rooted so deeply she would be a detriment to any clandestine attempt to manufacture such a conflict.

Your Highness, I would be remiss in my duties were I not to give mention that this young woman has also stolen my heart, and I have told her as much. I confess that I fell the very moment I laid eyes on her, but kept these feelings deep within my breast where none could see, for her own heart belongs to Sir Alexander Stone, her fiancée, who died tragically not long ago. I intend to give her the space and time she needs before I pursue a relationship. I do not believe I have allowed these feelings to compromise my judgment, but it is something you should be aware of.

Finally, their leader, Khana Storm, the object of focused interest in this investigation. I could speak at length of the noble bearing and adherence to law she has displayed, but I have witnessed evidence I find far more convincing in her defense. To be brief, she has performed the miracle of healing with but a touch and a prayer. I believe she has the soul of a paladin and could not possibly be anything but a champion of good.

I think you may wish to continue tracking this group's exploits. They have only just begun, but they are well on their way to continuing the tradition you yourself helped resurrect four score years ago. King James, who himself had a short career as a Dungeoneer three decades ago, has thrown his full confidence and interest in them, and should his faith bear fruit, you may at the very least find their exploits to be... nostalgic.

In the interest of maintaining my good standing with them, I have confessed that I have been observing them, though I have not told them who for or who I actually am. I wish to stay in their company for the time being because I believe they are my best aides in the other assignments I am engaged in. I will send further reports as I gain information, and, as always, look forward to my return.

In Loyal Service,

William Hunt,

Captain, Imperial Nightblades


	5. Chapter 5

_The Dungeoneers and the associated setting is the product of a tabletop roleplaying campaign created and managed by Tim Richey. These stories are based on that campaign and were written at the behest of both Tim and the players involved.

* * *

_

"Khana? Khana, wake up."

The young half-elf murmured happily into her pillow but did not awaken. Raina looked down at her with concern and gave her a gentle nudge, but it had no more effect than her previous effort.

This was not how it was supposed to have happened.

The night before Tucker and Raina decided it was time to intervene in Khana's relationship with Almonzo. The mage had developed a habit of leaving whenever the arguments with Khana grew too heated, and everyone was beginning to fear that next time he wouldn't return. The plan had been simple: Lock Almonzo and Khana in a room and force them to talk it out. They had also planted a bottle of juniperberry wine for them to drink while they were locked in.

Juniper berries were a popular delicacy among elves familiar with the unique way it affected those who consumed them, a fact which Khana was blissfully unaware. The hope had been that her human half would ensure the wine would not strongly affect her, simply lowering her inhibitions a bit while she and Alamonzo got to the business of admitting their deepest feelings for each other.

They had sorely underestimated the results.

After a second, more firm jostling, Raina finally coaxed her friend awake. As Khana looked about with drowsy eyes, she noted the room and her own state of undress and the memories of the previous night came flooding back in a surge of nightmares come true.

"OH... MY... _GOD_!!"

The young squire burst into tears and immediately began describing herself and her virtue in decidedly unflattering terms. Raina was shocked at not only the fervor but the range of vocabulary Khana was employing while she did her best to console her friend. After several attempts proved ineffective, Raina decided instead to concentrate on getting her dressed while Khana continued to ramble.

By the time Khana was fully dressed she had talked herself halfway into a convent, but a knock at the door interrupted her panic. "Who is it?" Raina called.

"I'm coming in." The voice was Almonzo's.

"No!" Khana yelled, diving behind Raina and clutching her like a shield between her and the door. Despite her plea, the door swung open and Almonzo stepped inside. His face was pale and he was shaking in quiet terror. "Don't look at me!" Khana said, burying her face in Raina's shoulder.

Almonzo ignored her, and bent to one knee. He reached into his robes, pulled out a small object from within, and held it out to her. For a brief, terrifying moment Khana thought he was going to cast a charm on her, until she saw what he was holding.

It was a plain and hastily acquired ring, but in Khana's own mind, angels were dancing on it. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers and she pushed Raina aside in her rush to claim it from Almonzo's hand. Raina scowled at being shoved away, but said nothing, a bit stunned herself at the scene before her.

Almonzo had barely stammered out Khana's name when she interrupted his carefully thought out speech. "Oh, Almonzo! My love!" Khana said, seizing the ring. "Yes!"

* * *

Hello, Mr. Stark. It is I, Omar, once again. I sit here in my room, buried in research as I strive to finish a project commissioned by Friend Tucker. He wishes to present a work of poetry as a prize for a tournament he is sponsoring. The type of poetry is native to the participants, high warriors of the Empire of Apan. The style is called "haiku" and my challenge is to not only create art that moves the soul within the snug confines of this format, but to also do it in their language. Perhaps you will smile down upon me and play muse as you sit at Allah's side, entertaining our holy lord with the stories that made you most legendary of Bards. Perhaps you will not, I have never written to ask your aid in my work before and do not wish incur divine wrath by doing so now. One curse at a time is quite enough for me. I write because it has been a horsefly's age since last I did so, and I need some distraction from the bountiful tedium that sits on my desk. 

By order of the Westmarch King, I have been assigned to chronicle the boundless heroism of none other than the legendary Dungeoneers. Had I been born a century ago I might even be doing just that, but the lot I've been saddled with hasn't even been knighted yet. Be not mistaken, they are brave and mighty warriors, and I do not wish to speak ill of them, but there is more to this band than I have penned to their king or my father. They want stories and it is my humble duty to provide them with such, but to you, my inspiration and icon, I shall be more honest. May rabid weasels nest in my bedsheets if my words find your eyes and are spoiled with less than the proud light of truth.

I am not the first to have been asked to bear witness to this group in artful prose. My predecessor fled their company before two cycles of the moon had passed, and they were not eager to have me take his place. Though they call themselves Dungeoneers, I fear for my life whenever I am indoors with them. They delight in holding conferences over how to explore a room or simply open a door, and all the while the filth of the unholy hangs about us and death draws strength from their procrastination. I draw no greater comfort in the wilderness. Once, during a heated battle, gentle Khana intentionally leapt into a river while wearing twice her weight in steel. This was no suicide attempt, however. She thought to rescue Sir Nigel, a great and noble knight who had stumbled into the very same river and was himself wearing even heavier armor. This may explain why they waste so much time in the dungeons, I am thinking.

The group has made it difficult for me to get to know them, that I may enhance my reports with the requisite details of any decent epic. They do not shun me, but my curse, for which I must wear a mask at all times, has complicated my efforts. My shame is my own, yet they do not accept my excuses of style and mystery to explain why I wear the mask. Perhaps they are like many born outside the cities, and are suspicious of anyone not like themselves, though I have witnessed limitless evidence to the contrary.

I have learned they were in the employ of the local sheriff before the King granted their titles. Perhaps they mistake my image for that of a thief? I have tried to compensate for this by observing their actions, but this is also difficult during battles, where the most thrilling acts of heroism occur, because I myself am forced to participate. I have as a result grown quite proficient with my bow, but by Allah, it is a horrible way to take notes. They tell me my skills are needed to keep friend Zach alive. I am fortunate in that Zachery has returned the favor on many occasions.

Sir Nigel of Rhyland, a knight of much distinction, has made it his task to tutor this group so that they may survive long enough to honor the name they have taken. Soon after I joined the group he took Khana as his squire and has given private lessons to each of us, even myself. When we first met him, however, I thought he meant to slay us. We had been resting at a Hearthstone Inn, partaking of a midday meal, when he walked in, quite unknown to any of us, and asked to meet Khana. She identified herself, and he knocked over the table and proceeded to pummel us all with deliberate brutality! Please forgive my lack of elegance in that description, but I find my heart cannot warm to song while I am being kicked in the face. It was only after we surrendered that he explained who he was and his purpose for seeking us out. The attack, it turned out, had been a test of our mettle and a means to learn how each of us behaved during unexpected situations.

Allow me, great master of quill and lute, to pause from this unsavory account to spend a moment heralding the bravery and good souls of these Dungeoneers. I well remember how they rescued a poor woodcutter and his sons from a mad artisan who had changed them to marble and passed them off as his own sculpture. They once rescued a house of healing from a plague that transformed ordinary people into spore-filled, crazed monsters, faced a demon without flinching, and captured a group of impostors who were visiting misery to the countryside under the very name my companions hope to someday honor. All these accomplishments show them at their finest and I have delighted in immortalizing them, yet they do not achieve such heroics as smoothly as I have made it appear in those accounts.

I feel many times that I follow this group along on a series of misadventures, for their lack of common sense and dungeoneering skills pale in comparison to their cavalier attitudes toward much of what they do. An example, if I may gift you with one: Last summer Almonzo's master descended into darkness in a mad quest for power and immortality, firmly entrenching himself on the path toward becoming a lich. With no one to sponsor him, Almonzo was forced to take the Wizard's Test with his fellow Dungeoneers. They danced through the test like children at a circus, even going so far as to deliberately trigger a favorite illusion several times. Even Sir Nigel hasn't been able to cure them of acting more like they're playing a game than doing the King's work. The Sultan, may his reign be long, would never tolerate such behavior.

Sadly, the is far from the end of the startling behavior I have witnessed. Tucker has been torturing a young lady merchant by leaving a wave of closed business opportunities in his wake. Raina is quite simply insane. She fights like a madwoman and her moods change as often as the tides, I really don't know what William sees in her. Khana always acts on the first impulse she has, including agreeing to marry Almonzo. I got along well with Almonzo before he wed, but then everything changed. During the fight with the spore monsters I had one negligible accident with my bow and an errant missile found its way to Khana. It was only a minor wound, and she was able to sit without wincing in less than two days, but Almonzo went after me with bare fists as though I'd shot her through the heart. He still believes I did it on purpose.

Of them all, I am most fond of Friend Zach, who I feel is misunderstood by the others. Kind Zach, mender of wounds and master of silent wit, who holds the conscience of the group within his meager breast. He is underestimated by the others, for he has simple needs and a focused mind, but I know he sees deeper into the world than most. He knows when he is needed and, like me, is wise enough not to get too close to something that's trying to kill us. He is both an instrument of mercy and justice. When the false Dungeoneers were captured, the others left them to his care. He calmly saw to their deaths on his own terms, through a means both swift and inescapable. The others were shocked, but I knew he had done the right thing, and had seen that he would be the one to do so.

Most recently, we visited the camp of a tribe of unsavory goblins known as the Skullcrushers. Some treasure was rumored to be within the caves and Tucker's brother, Jedidiah, had come along to help us seek it out. He had apparently been released from a dungeon and was being kept in line by a ravishing young woman named Emma, who hails from Apan. This has led to an unusual chain of events involving a sultry redhead in the employ of Lady Whittenhouse, a noble who is interested in purchasing the Hearthstone Inn from Khana's Uncle while he pursues other business opportunities. Business and politics are not the stuff of legends, so I am content to let them do as they wish in such matters. I was not content to be left guarding Jedidiah during the trip to the caves, however.

The man prattled incessantly, speaking of matters not befitting a man of my civilized upbringing. Most upsetting were his attitudes towards Allah's Flowers, the beautiful women who make the world a joy to live in. He is a callous man who sees them as nothing more than conquests, and his actions are the sort that put them on guard against benign individuals such as myself. I understand that to even gimpse perfect flesh is to touch Heaven and that one must earn a lady's favor before it may be touched. He is a cur who goads and confuses women and is undeserving of their charms. When I had heard too much from him I cast a glamour which rendered him silent. This actually brought me some favor with the others.

The destruction of the Skullcrushers was another fine moment of debates and delays for my companions. They paid for their folly by confronting an organized foe with a deadly trap of falling stones in the Chief's grand hall. I count myself fortunate that I had the foresight to down a potion of flight which carried me past the rain of rocks and enabling me to loose my arrows at the Chief. Once he fell and could no longer pull the cord that opened the ceiling, the Dungeoneers made short work of the lesser goblins. Alas, there was, in fact, no treasure, but the only one disappointed by this revelation was Jedediah.

I sense a moment of inspiration coming my way and must end this so that I may receive it. Fear not, I shall write again soon.


	6. Chapter 6

_The Dungeoneers and the associated setting is the product of a tabletop roleplaying campaign created and managed by Tim Richey. These stories are based on that campaign and were written at the behest of both Tim and the players involved.

* * *

_

Almonzo's brow furrowed in concentration as he scanned the orb. The others watched in silence, still resting up from the battle that had led to this chamber. Finally, he gave a short nod and turned to Raina. "It'll be a bit tricky, but as long as I keep my focus on Harn alone, the transfer is possible. Do you want to do this?"

The answer wasn't going to be as easy as Raina thought it would be. The orb, a dwarven item of power, could transfer souls from one body to another. A dozen years ago the barbarian named Harn was cut down by an ally while touching that orb and his spirit found its way to Raina. Now, the Dungeoneers had defeated Harn's brother before he could transfer his own soul into a golem made of solid mithrel, a metal stronger than steel. Instead, he was diverted into an ordinary mouse, and his body lay on a stone slab next to the orb, alive, but empty. Raina would never have a better opportunity than this to be whole again.

Raina looked at her companions and nervously said, "Can I have a moment alone, please?"

They all agreed and Raina stepped to a corner of the room, staring at the stone surface. Silently she sent her thoughts out to the one who had shared her mind for so many years.

"So, Harn. What should we do?"

Silence.

"Harn?"

No Response.

"Harn!"

"All right!" came the gruff reply. "I don't know. I mean, I never did like that nose of his."

"Will you be serious?" Raina scowled. As usual, she spoke aloud when she was vexed with Harn. The moment passed, and she was back to silence. "I need your help on this decision, Harn. I can't do it alone. I'm..." She couldn't bring herself to say the next word.

"Why? I'd have thought by now you'd be glad to be rid of me."

Raina frowned and began to nervously trace the cracks in the wall with her finger. "And then what, Harn? Maybe you remember what it's like to have a mind all to yourself, but I don't. I've never been completely alone, and I still don't know who I am."

"Trust me girl, there've been plenty of times since you wed that I've _wished_ you were completely alone."

"So you do want to through with this?"

There was a pause. Finally, "It's not even really my decision."

"Of course it is!" Raina snapped back. "Your soul still belongs to you!"

"Does it?" Harn asked dubiously. "A lot's changed since I died. I don't have the same opinions I used to. I don't know if I'll stay like this when I leave your mind, and have I really changed at all if I'm willing to just take someone's body against their will?"

Raina hesitated in her discussion. This was unusually introspective for Harn. He didn't tend to express his doubts about things, and he certainly didn't like to defer to her on matters he felt strongly about. There was one explanation, and if she guessed right, it would make her decision easier.

"You're scared to be alone too, aren't you?"

"The Hell I am!" Harn retorted. "Do you think I enjoy sharing your monthlies? Do you think I like suffering through every meal of nuts and berries instead of real food? Now that you're married, you'll probably have a kid sometime soon." Harn's voice started to become a bit frantic. "Do you think I want any part of _that_!?"

"Than why don't you just say you want to do this?"

She could sense him seething within her. Finally, he conceded what little he ever would. "Because I won't abandon you if you still need me..." He left the rest unsaid.

Raina took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say next. "I know I'm scared, Harn, but you've cleared things up for me... for us, I think. We need to stand on our own, and become whoever we really are, or we'll just hold each other back. I think we should do this."

"You're right," Harn said reluctantly. "I want to do this too. It's been too long, and perhaps I can undo some of the evil my brother has done, and atone for my own acts."

"I think you've already done the latter." Raina said, feeling a lump building in her throat.

"Are we agreed then?"

"Agreed."

A small tear escaped Raina, rolling down her cheek before she even realized what it was. She touched it with her finger with a mix of wonder and amusement. "That _wasn't_ me."

Neither could be sure which of them had spoken those words.

* * *

Little Sister, 

No time for formal good-byes. Omar's family is in some sort of trouble and he needs me to come back to the Savage Lands with him. Don't worry, I still intend to deal with my old tribe. This is just more important right now. Contrary to what you might think, I've grown to like the boy. My people have always respected the lorekeepers, and I was very impressed with the way he stood up to me back in that town full of Halflings.

I owe a lot to you for the past six months. I'm slowly growing accustomed to this new body, though I do have a few complaints. Did you realize that I'm not as strong in this body as you are. In fact, I wasn't as strong in my original body as you are. Do you know how much that pisses me off? Still, I can't deny the great pleasures I've taken in dining on real food. That's right; Steak, roast, chops, liver, all just as good as I always remembered. You really should give up that rabbit feed and eat some yourself. Get some meat on those bones.

Peace, girl. I only wrote that to get one last "Shut up, Harn" out of you for old time's sake. Truth is, I'm terribly proud of you. You may not realize it yet, but for the past six months you've already done a lot of the standing on your own you talked about. Just for starters, the fact that you and the others have been knighted speaks highly of you, and for another, you'd best believe I had nothing to do with your decision to wed William.

Need more proof? Very well.

When my memories started returning after Lady Whittenhouse moved to New Cestin, you pursued her investigation as adamantly as I, but you didn't become obsessed the way I would have. When the King asked you to check on the bandit raids at Castle Ridge, you left and did your duty. When the Imperial Tournament was held, you took the time to relax and have fun. Ha! But you kicked some ass in that tournament, girl. It's been a long time since the Dungeoneers were declared the winners of it, and you can bet the other Kingdoms were none too happy.

But when we found out the full story, how the mindwitch was a trusted friend who masterminded my demise, you still kept your head and waited until we had legal discourse to come and "question" her. Too bad she panicked and got her neck snapped. And it was really a shame that we weren't the one's doing the snapping. I know Tucker says it was an accident, but clumsiness is no excuse for stealing someone's kill.

Poor Tucker. Everyone, even him, knew that Amanda was a snake, but her reaction to walking into the room moments after he had just killed her best friend and employer was understandable. I almost felt sorry for her. With her gone, though, Emma and that merchant-woman Marilyn have grown more aggressive in their own campaigns. He'd best watch himself or one of those two ladies will make an honest man of him within a year.

Then, of course, there was that whole trip to the Halfling's town. Finally, after nearly two years of hearing about it, we found that dragon's cave. Too bad it was crippled and using a baby dragon to haul its treasure back and forth. The fact that you adopted the little thing after rescuing it was rather surprising. Naming it Nimbus to boot. You and William seriously need to have a baby. Of course, Tucker decided he had to take care of that baby roc he found there. Hard to believe, but it seems Almonzo and Khana were the only ones with enough sense to adopt something without wings growing out of its back.

That was also where Omar decided he was fed up with my plainly stated distrust of him. Of course, he thought it was you at the time, but it did get him mad enough to tear that stupid mask off. Guess he had a good reason to wear it after all. The boy's so pretty it almost hurt to look at him. I'll clue you in on a little secret there: It was you who mustered the willpower to run away, not me. I was so shocked I lost the power to control you. I don't know how you managed it, but you did. To his credit, you probably didn't need to run. I'm sure he would have put the mask back on before you started kissing him.

I guess it was then that I realized that you no longer needed me. When we destroyed Almonzo's old master, Ro'nas and dealt with that plague in the fort near Harborland, I pretty much sat those out. I admit, I helped out a little when we rescued Shinval Lake City, but you know how I hate to miss a good fight. As far as our most recent adventure went, that was personal. My brother was mad for power, allying himself with the grey dwarves, and he had to be stopped.

That's over now. I have other things to resolve, like my tribe, and I have to do those alone. You have your own things, what with the information you got from Father Gunther about your mother. I know it hasn't been easy. A mighty barbarian with missing memories thrust into the mind of a little girl with her own amnesia wasn't a formula for tranquility, but we made the best of it. Now it's time to go our separate ways. You've got your own family. You've got your own life. Go live it, girl. Just make sure you bonk a few heads for me.

I'll be seeing you,

Harn


	7. Chapter 7

_The Dungeoneers and the associated setting is the product of a tabletop roleplaying campaign created and managed by Tim Richey. These stories are based on that campaign and were written at the behest of both Tim and the players involved.

* * *

_

The Dungeoneers stepped into the cavern with caution but no fear. They could hear the breaths of its occupant resonating throughout in heavy rhythms. The torchlight flickered across a massive form in the center of the room, scales the color of new brick, enormous wings like the sails of a war ship. There was no hostility in their approach. They would fight if they had do, but that was not their purpose, and only fools would enter a cave like this hoping to battle its inhabitant.

Dragon.

Once they were all in the room and had a good look at it, it opened its eyes and lifted its head to its fullest height to give them the proper appreciation of the power it represented. It bared its teeth and said, "Foolish intruders. I am Rithgar. Tremble before me and present gifts that please me, lest I burn you all to cinders."

Several of the Dungeoneers relaxed at the threat. The fact that it hadn't simply attacked right away meant they'd be able to talk their way through this and several began composing how they would do this. Tucker was the quickest, stepping forward and intoning, "Westmarch Dungeoneers!" in his most authoritative voice.

This was the first time any of them had seen an expression of panic on a dragon's face, and most of them were already diving for cover when it jumped to its feet and began blasting them with flames. "Calm down! Calm down!" they shouted while Almonzo quickly got to work casting a spell.

Tucker, unwilling to let the situation get out of control, remained standing, his dragonscale armor protecting him from the flames but not improving his chances of calming the dragon's fears. "That's okay! We can forgive that one!"

"You're not slaying me!" vowed the dragon, sending another sheet of flames spiraling from its mouth. They scattered again, still trying to convince it to cease its assault. Finally Almonzo's spell went off and a magical barrier sprang forth, blocking the flames and allowing the others to speak more clearly.

"We're not here about you!" shouted Khana.

"We're just passing through!" said Raina.

Rithgar paused. "This isn't a trick, is it?" he asked suspiciously.

"Of course not," said Khana. "Why would we come for you?"

"You said you were Dungeoneers," the dragon said. "Isn't that what you _do_?"

Everyone took a moment to glare at Tucker. The room was a mess, scorch marks covered everything, and the smell of burnt hair filled the room.

"_What_?" Tucker asked.

* * *

My Love, 

This is to be the first of many letters I will send you, for you deserve to know how our daughter is faring now that she is out in the world. I know it pained you to banish her as I requested, but it had to be done. You have been good to your family, and a fine husband both to me and your new wife. Believe me when I tell you that you could not have protected Moira, nor could I if I had remained alive.

You were not deceived when you buried me. I truly died giving birth to our daughter, but my spirit remains thanks to the intervention of certain allies of mine. This was the only way I could guide and protect Moira. Before I came to the mountains and met you, I was a mage of great power, and knew that I was destined to someday give birth to Moira. In preparing for this, I discovered a truth that threatened my enemies. They found me, stripped me of my power and sent me away to die. Instead I found you, now that I am dead my magic is returned to me. I only wish I could have told you this while I was alive, but it would have been too dangerous.

After you banished her, Moira wandered the land for a year or so, until she heard rumors of a great beastmaster in Westmarch. I know you never approved of her choice of profession, but I am responsible for it. She will need those skills, and more, for the task she was born to do. I expected this beastmaster to take her under his wing and build her skills up until she was ready to be passed on to others, but my plans have gone slightly awry because of the Westmarch Dungeoneers.

I do wish this letter could be more encouraging, but I swear to not disguise the truth or my fears, my love. It seems I may have exposed our daughter to as much danger as I sought to shield her from, though of a far more direct variety. To your credit, you have raised her to be a fine dwarf, willing and able to face any threat she sees. It is the dangers she does not see which I fear, so perhaps she is slightly better off. We shall see.

Moira settled down with her new master, Michael Deverough, in New Cestin, a rapidly growing town in Westmarch, which this new breed of Dungeoneers also makes their home in. At first it wasn't so bad. Winter was setting in and Moira joined them on a trip to some old drow caves simply because chance had taken her to those caves earlier. When her master asked her to accompany them on a rescue mission to an island ruled by pirates, things changed.

At first, I thought traveling with the Dungeoneers would be healthy for our daughter. She'd be on the move, and thus harder to find. I began to doubt the wisdom of that decision after that adventure. She did indeed become "pals" with them, in particular a human named Raina, who shares Moira's love of animals. However, this new friendship made her open to the most outrageous suggestions! Can you imagine, Duncan, our little girl posing as a common thug just so the rest of them could travel freely under the guise of mercenaries and slavers! I was also dismayed by the personal motives behind the mission; Raina's husband had gone to the island previously and was rumored slain, and the criminal brother of another of the group was apparently up to no good on the island as well.

Their justification for this charade was that they couldn't fight their way through a heavily defended city populated by hundreds of cutthroats. Well, they could and they did, and I think they should have done so from the beginning. I have no objections to subterfuge, but I won't have those humans enticing our daughter to behave so shamelessly!

Well, after that I decided to limit her contact with them. There was a brief episode involving several infant deaths. It was resolved with the help of druids, who discovered that the babies were being fed honey, and immediately called for a change in diet, preventing further such tragedies. The druids fortunately did not take notice of Moira. Love, if any druids should pass through asking about her, please tell them nothing. She isn't ready yet.

I'm not sure how you'll feel about this, but one of the methods I employed to limit her exposure to the Dungeoneers was to arrange a meeting with her and a dwarf working in Brunde named Coldsteel. He's about your age and I think he fancies Moira. Who knows? Maybe in a few decades you'll have a new son-in-law.

Upon her return to New Cestin, the Dungeoneers went off on some mission and I felt I could relax. Word of what happened next has not reached you yet, so you may like to sit down before you read further. It seems the giants tribes decided to declare war on Westmarch and carry it straight through New Cestin. Moira immediately volunteered to defend the keep while the townspeople evacuated. Now before you go congratulating yourself for making her a good soldier and giantslayer I want you to think about how different border defense in the mountains is from sitting in a fort against a full scale assault.

Yet fight she did, taking down the giants one at a time alongside the town militia, and using her skills with the animals to provide information on the giant's plans. The siege was brief but brutal and many times Moira was nearly cut down. She nearly did die when she decided to mount a rescue for a baby dragon the giants were abusing. Moira's master created a distraction while she charged out of the keep and unchained the infant firelizard, but a stone giant caught her and brought her down with one blow. I had to reveal myself to the little dragon to convince it to carry her to safety. Hopefully it will lose the memory of that encounter, it would be problematic if it started asking awkward questions about the "ghost dwarf" he saw.

The giants were eventually driven back, and the Dungeoneers returned to help rebuild, but Michael was slain and Moira took over training his younger apprentice, Thomas. The Dungeoneers decided to counter with an assault on a stone giant stronghold and Moira insisted on coming along. They brought the place down around their ears and when they returned, the King gave three of them baronial titles and made Moira a Dungeoneer!

Now she feels obligated to stay in their company and I see only trouble in that. You've made Moira a fine warrior, Love, and I know she will be far more than that. However, the Dungeoneers are warriors of a scale she can never hope to achieve, and what's worse is she realizes this. She's pushing herself too hard and taking too many risks, Duncan, and I can't protect her from herself. It may make you proud that our daughter has become the first dwarven Dungeoneer, but I intend to make it short lived. She must be convinced to part company with them before she does something truly insane like jump down the throat of a dragon.

Please trust that I will keep her safe. I will compose another letter for you in a few months. Kiss your wife and care for the kin you have there. I'll do my part from here.

With Love Always,

Mary


	8. Chapter 8

_The Dungeoneers and the associated setting is the product of a tabletop roleplaying campaign created and managed by Tim Richey. These stories are based on that campaign and were written at the behest of both Tim and the players involved._

* * *

Moira glared at the mercenaries standing before them. They all bore the stylized tattoo that signified them as loyal to Damien Luger. She had only just met the self-styled warlord who had plagued her companions for years, but she already disliked him as much as they did. Anyone who chose to follow him were not welcome in the lands of Westmarch, and when a local Duke had called upon the Dungeoneers to take these malcontents into custody, they eagerly answered. The two groups stood outside the Duke's keep, hurling insults at each other as they prepared to square off for the battle that was looking inevitable.

This was not a serious threat in Moira's opinion, not one worth getting upset over. She could probably take all five of them on her own and was more than content to let them swagger like fools. If they were that eager for a fight after all, they would have attacked the minute they arrived, instead of wasting time flinging isults. Moira hadn't even pulled her axe. Her primary concern was not the mercenaries, it was making sure Raina was safe.

Now that her friend was in the last stage of her pregnancy, Moira had been keeping a closer watch on Raina. The tiny woman had a pronounced wobble and difficulty sitting and standing, but insisted on behaving as though she was still a swift and deadly warrior. Moira kept her concerns to herself, hoping that her friend would eventually come to her senses before the baby was born, or better yet, Zach would forbid her to carry her sword or come within twenty yards of a battle. Sadly, the silly boy had only made a few token comments to that effect, and if she wouldn't listen to him, what chance was there that she'd listen to her?

To Moira's horror, Raina wasn't just present for the exchange, it was her who finally decided she'd heard one insult too many and was the first to begin the formal hostilities. If she couldn't keep her friend out of the fight, however, she could at least see to it she wasn't hurt. At least she hoped so. The man facing Moira was a scrawny fellow of the spellcasting persuasion, but she bade him no mind as she focused on preparing her own magic. The others simply threw themselves into the brawl with their usual gusto.

Raina, as always, moved swiftly despite her condition, but her opponent was much faster and knocked aside her sword. Turning inward, he swung again, striking her arm so brutally that bones snapped, and Raina grunted in pain. An instant later the man whipped his hand back and stabbed his sword through her gut. This time Raina cried out and her eyes widened in shock. Never had someone gotten past her guard so effortlessly, and as she stared into him he whispered something to her and twisted his sword.

Moira tried to deny what she had just seen. Not this. Not again, losing Doris had been bad enough. The chaos raging around her faded away and a focused calm washed over her. She knew what had to be done, and redirected her efforts into another spell.

Raina shoved the man away and snatched her sword up with her good hand. She had trouble standing, her arm hung limply at her side, but she refused to yield to her opponent. The man smiled triumphantly, certain the battle would be short. When he moved to attack again, he swung his sword in a perfect arc, poised to cut her down the middle, when suddenly his sword bounced to the left, hitting nothing. Moira's spell had done its job, but it might have already been too late. She soon discovered, however, that everyone else shifted targets immediately after the mercenary's revolting display. The next moment he was struck by a bolt of lightning, stabbed with one of Khana's dancing blades and struck in the leg by one of Tucker's throwing knives. He fell to one knee as Raina bore down on him.

As he had done, she struck thrice. One swing and his sword arm went flying. The second took off his leg at the knee. The last beheaded him, and his charred and bleeding corpse fell to the earth with a sickening thud. Raina also fell backwards, into the arms of Zach, who dragged her away from the fighting so that he could heal her.

The wizard facing Moira paid no heed to his fallen companion and kicked the redheaded dwarf to get her attention. Unfortunately for him, he succeeded. She turned to stare him in the eye and he realized his mistake. With deadly swiftness she pounced, knocking him over as her hands wrapped around his throat. Though her actions seemed furious, her eyes were flat and focused and she watched him and began to squeeze.

"Savage!" she shouted, while he desperately worked an incantation. She registered something magical brushing her but it had no effect.

"Butcher!" she yelled, and he tried his spell a second time, with identical results.

"Murderer!" she said. Before she could finish strangling him, however, she suddenly felt drowsy and her hands became numb. She fell back and the man rose, throwing her off of him.

"Ha!" he rasped while sucking in a breath. "I win!" Moira slowly sank into an enchanted slumber, remaining awake just long enough to see a massive lighting bolt strike the gloating man and turn him into a cinder.

When she awoke, only one thing concerned her. She glanced at the friends staring down at her and said, "The baby! How's the baby?"

Almonzo and Tucker wore grim expressions, but quickly explained that Zach had miraculously been able to heal Raina and save her baby. The sword, despite appearances, had barely touched the unborn child, a feat they were all attributing to Raina's unnatural agility. Moira clenched her eyes shut and shed a tear in silent gratitude. Zach had pulled another one of his miracles.

"Luckily we realized they were specifically trained to match each of us one for one. Once we switched opponents the fight was easy. Of course, you had the one meant for Almonzo, so you may not have noticed." Moira ground her teeth together and demanded to be taken to her friend. She had always seen her relationship with Raina to be sisterlike. Perhaps it was because Khana's relationship with Raina was like that. Perhaps it was because Moira had only one sister in her large family, and age had kept them from ever being that close. It hardly mattered. Moira wasn't feeling very sisterly at the moment, and what she had to say would not be stopped by sentiment.

She charged into the room Raina was recovering in. The tiny woman had been chatting with Khana, who was sitting next to the bed, but when she saw Moira she stopped and looked at her dwarven friend with an expression that hinted at both fear and shame.

"What were ye thinking, girl?" Moira said in a withering voice. "Jumping into a fray like that? Yer baby could have died! Did ye forget it was there?" Stepping closer, she leaned over Raina and shot her a flinty glare. "Don't ever do something like that again or I swear ye won't have to worry about the beasties out there because I'll take yer daft hide out myself!" At the last, Moira's voice began to crack, but she still managed to sound menacing despite that.

Before the dwarf could continue her tirade, Raina rose from the bed and seized her in a great hug. "Thank you," she whispered to Moira. The dwarf lost her composure and returned the hug, bursting into sobs.

They embraced for many minutes. "Promise me," Moira said through the tears. "Promise me ye'll be more careful."

"I will," Raina said, and they broke away and smiled.

"Good," Moira said. "But just to make sure, I'm telling yer husband," she turned and walked out of the room as the blood drained out of Raina's face.

"Khana," she said in a strangled voice. "Stop her!"

"Uh-uh," Khana refused.

* * *

Big Red's Journal, entry April 1246

After successfully faking my demise, many fascinating and troubling revelations have come to me. My search for ways to deal with the World Eater is making progress, but I fear my son shall soon be threatened as he guards my cave in my stead. Since I cannot intervene myself without undoing my deception, I must consider other alternatives. From what I have observed the Dungeoneers may very prove to be the ideal solution to this problem.

Since the tournament to divide my treasure, I have been following the progress of this new band of Westmarch Dungeoneers. I found what transpired on the island they observed the tournament from to be quite impressive. The tournament, unfortunately, descended into a riot after a rogue contestant attempted to cheat his way to a larger share. A few younger dragons believed the mortals witnessing would prove to be easier prey, and all died most ignominiously at their hands. The paladins who ride the Silvers in attendance also did well, but that was to be expected. The first two youths died from a well coordinated volley of crossbow bolts and swordthrusts, but the third, ah, that was a sight. He was brought down by a plucky young dwarven female who was not only bold enough to bring an enchanted weapon made to slay our kind, but willingly dove into the black's mouth in order to better hit him with it. I suppose she wasn't expecting him to swallow her, but she killed him with one blow and was none the worse for the wear when her companions cut her out of his gut. I can honestly say that in all my life I've never seen anything quite like that.

Upon returning to Balanor, the Dungeoneers were asked to escort an Imperial prisoner named Damien Luger to his home country of Hellsteel. Soon after, he escaped and began stirring up trouble with the aid of his henchmen. I shall continue to be wary of this mortal. He may appear to be nothing more than a charismatic warlord, but he has the backing of a powerful member of the Mage's Guild, and his ambitions seem to run much deeper than simple conquest. He is unquestionably dangerous, and has managed to execute several successful ambushes on the Dungeoneers, slaying one of their young charges and nearly bringing Dame Raina's death as well. He also attempted to have the King of Westmarch assassinated while the Dungeoneers were busy dealing with his henchmen a couple months ago. I must not underestimate this man, for I am certain he will cross paths with me or my son before long.

After they'd earned my notice, I decided to look in on the Dungeoneers personally and in my present guise I ventured down their way. I had a few other things to do at the time and mixed that in with my activities, but found the Dungeoneers to be interesting to observe. They managed to convince an old foe of theirs to mend his ways and the dwarf I mentioned earlier was knighted. Nimbus, the hatchling we all found so curious, was secured an education with Evrian, a Red who frequently assumes the guise of a human to live amongst them. This caught me a bit by surprise, unfortunately, and she now shares my secret, as do the Dungeoneers, who persuaded her not to behave rashly in my presence. More recently, in the absence of any crises, the Dungeoneers have taken the time to recreate, including a very inventive game of Capture the Flag against their protégés, which they nearly lost.

I am certain they will be useful in the coming crisis. They have already defeated two demons, one of which came from beyond the Pale, and helped avert another giant war before it could become unavoidable. Sir George Sebastian 'Tucker' has managed to build an enormous trading empire and his considerable assets alone will come in handy. Dame Khana is an inspiring leader on the field and Dame Raina is driven, skilled and nearly unstoppable, as well as being a gifted diplomat. Almonzo is quickly rising to prominence in the mage's circles and Zachary Beard has demonstrated the ability to revive the dead. Most significant, yet curious of all, however, is Dame Moira. I sense something extraordinary about her, but there is an unseen presence near her that has blocked my attempts to probe deeper. It matters little, however. The prophecies are known to us and if she is the dwarf mentioned in them then her role in the matter is already assured.

This is all I have to say for now. I shall continue my search, but remain on guard. This is a dangerous time and even I do not know what the future holds.


	9. Chapter 9

_The Dungeoneers and the associated setting is the product of a tabletop roleplaying campaign created and managed by Tim Richey. These stories are based on that campaign and were written at the behest of both Tim and the players involved._

* * *

In the dungeon below Kouchi castle, the Dungeoneers hung from chains against a stone wall, defeated. Their attempt to rescue Emma's uncle had failed, and now, thanks to information brought to them by the very man who single-handedly beat them all, they knew that the Shogun of Apan was going to be kidnapped and assassinated, with the blame to be placed on them. He hadn't been gloating when he told them this. He spoke with a note of regret, and left, telling them it had been an honor to meet and do battle with them. 

They were alive for the moment, but if they stayed where they were, they would surely be killed before long. It was just the four of them, however, all alone in nothing but their smallclothes, against an entire castle.

They didn't care.

Raina took several deep breaths and focused. The chains she wore were the strongest she'd ever seen, and she wasn't sure even her considerable power could break them. The others waited silently, not wanting to break her concentration. She flexed her muscles and began to pull, straining against the shackles with all her might. Beads of sweat began to form on her brow and the effort caused her to allow a low, throaty groan, but she refused to quit. The chain refused to budge, too. The metal was too thick and the angle was too poor. The stone the chain was bolted to, however, had neither advantage, and after a minute of constant pressure, began to crack. More cracks appeared and seconds later the bolts flew out of their casings, showering rock powder on the floor.

With her hands free, unchaining her legs became child's play, and soon her companions were standing with her over a pile of broken metal. Moira grabbed a pair of manacles and the four of them stormed up the spiral stairway outside the room, with Raina in the lead. The petite swordswoman mumbled a quick incantation and her form blurred, becoming almost invisible.

A guard walked casually down the stairs to check on the prisoners. There had been no report from the previous guards and he was sent to make sure nothing was amiss. Halfway there he felt something slam into his jaw and stumbled back a step as he was shoved to the side by an unseen force. The next moment a dwarf stepped up and whipped him with a pair of heavy manacles, busting his lip open. She too moved past him without another look. A fair haired woman appeared next, snatching his sword from its sheath and continuing up the stairs as if he wasn't there. He had just about regained his composure when a man appeared, grabbed him by his chestplate and threw him down the stairs. By the time he hit the bottom he was completely unconscious.

The four adventurers reached the guard tower and found five men lounging about. Raina and Tucker teamed up on one of them barehanded while Khana squared off against another with her borrowed weapon. Moira simply charged one of them, hauling him up by the waist and using her momentum to carry him to a window and shove him through it. Seconds later, all the guards were dead, including a second who took the short route to the courtyard, and the Dungeoneers pressed on.

The next tower contained their armor and weapons and they paused to suit up, though Moira kept her manacles. After that they found the Daimyo's personal chambers and broke their way in without a moment's hesitation. Inside they found the Daimyo, who, certain of his victory, was entertaining company at the moment. His embarrassing state of unpreparedness made it simple to capture him without a struggle. The manacles were slapped on his arms and he was pressed for further information about the castle, most importantly the location of William, who had been sent earlier but hadn't returned. Khana and Raina took off with the information while Tucker and Moira hauled the Daimyo out on the ramparts to await their return.

Two beefy sumo warriors were beating William with whips and fists, drawing blood and bruises from the man with every blow. The imperial officer was doing his best to pretend he didn't notice. "You know," he said casually, "This is fun and all, but I really should advise you to stop." He winced as the whip cracked across his chest and the chains on his arms rattled, but he continued to speak in the same cheerful voice. "My wife and her friends have probably escaped by now and if she finds out what you've been doing she'll probably be very angry."

As if on cue Raina and Khana stepped around the corner and, like mirror images of each other, struck the men's necks in the exact same manner, killing them both instantly.

"Sorry I'm late," Raina said gruffly.

"What took you so long,?" William said good naturedly. Glancing down at the remarkable speed in which his torturers were killed, he said, "Wow, I should predict your impending rampages more often."

"Oh, shut up," Raina said as she worked on unchaining him.

Back on the balcony of the castle, Moira and Tucker quietly awaited the return of their companions. The Daimyo's eyes widened in shock when he saw how quickly they had freed William, but he wasn't given time to dwell on it "We've tried it your way," Khana told the man as she leveled one of her slender blades at his throat. "But we've grown tired of your hospitality, and decided to proceed with a more western style of negotiation. Will that be a problem?"

* * *

My Dear Linna, 

Your father and I are extremely proud of how well you've been doing at the Academy since you enrolled. We enjoyed reading your last letter and hope you write again soon. Your time there will be challenging, but we know you will do well.

In your last letter you mentioned that some of your classmates challenged you on the matter of how our province remained in our control after the Miyoshi invasion. You already know how your father led our army in its defense, but of course, the Westmarch Dungeoneers also played a role in our salvation and there is not as much known about what they did to help us. That is unfortunate, because they helped create the very Academy you are training in and we owe them much for coming to our defense. That is why I have decided to tell you how it came to be.

After my Uncle was kidnapped by the Kouchi, Furuhawa province was left without a noble male to command our army. The Miyoshi and Tsunekata families immediately leveled challenges to my authority and I knew it would only be a matter of time before they moved to seize our lands. Your father had only recently arrived and had taken over as General, but he wasn't a noble. Worse! A gaijin, whom they would never willingly accept, and we had a severely diminished army and wavering support from the populace. That was when I called to the Dungeoneers for their aid, and they set sail immediately.

They nearly didn't make it. Lady Castille, a powerful mage from the guild, sent a demon from beyond the Pale to slay them, but they defeated it and arrived safely in Apan as autumn settled over our lands. This timing was critical, for we felt that once winter arrived we would be safe until the spring. Before we could plan on their help, however, the Dungeoneers would had to win the Empress' favor to gain access to the mainland. Those who behaved unwisely could languish for years or more awaiting such permission. Fortunately, they had the aid of an ambassador who advised them on what to do and what not to do.

Still, things were not easy for the Dungeoneers. An attempt was made to unbalance them by giving them each a servant who would belong to them for life. As you know, slavery is illegal in Balanor, and they were expected to object. Their response was quite novel, actually. They accepted the "gifts" and proceeded to train them as henchmen and squires, all without ever violating the boundaries of the master/ servant relationship. One of these eventually married Sir Tucker and became your Aunt Mariko, but that was long after they had returned to Balanor. That story is hers to tell, should she wish.

That is one of the hallmarks of the Dungeoneers, however. They tend to turn potential disasters to their advantage. Dame Moira's familiar angered a samurai who challenged her to a duel. She not only defeated him, but shamed him and brought honor to herself. Not easy for korobukuru in this empire. The Empress' Wu Jen took a liking to Dame Khana's husband, Almonzo, and forced herself on him, only to be slain by Dame Raina and Sir Tucker. To fill the void this created, they offered Almonzo's own apprentice, Mary, which not only smoothed the situation over, but placed one of their own at the Empress' side. When their apprentices challenged the Daitokuji Dojo, Sir Tucker and Dame Raina arranged for a mock tournament that not only removed the insult that had been made, but created the alliance that led to founding of the Academy. Many in the Empress' court began to respect the Dungeoneers for their good fortune, their honorable behavior, and their uncanny ability to play court politics like retired generals.

Once they had been granted permission to travel to the mainland, they listened to my dilemma and discussed what to do. The Tsunekata were less committed to the invasion than the Miyoshi, and diplomats were sent to negotiate a treaty with them. Also, to legitimize the leadership of our militia I had a discussion with your Uncle and your Father. Soon after I was married and Jedidiah officially took over, but more would be needed to cement his authority. To that end, the Dungeoneers traveled to Bluebolt's mountain and spoke with the great dragon to ask for his aid. He was reluctant at first, but was only asked to make a show of support for my sovereignty, and finally agreed. All that remained was to deal with my Uncle's kidnapping. The Dungeoneers traveled south as winter began and I remained here, to make what preparations I could. With my Uncle returned safely and in charge, the legitimacy of Miyoshi's claims would vanish, and we would be spared.

The Dungeoneers were walking into a trap, but in another display of luck and genius, they allowed themselves to be captured so that they could take down the Kouchi from within their own castle. Their heroism averted a major conspiracy that could have dragged the entire Empire into war, but sadly, my Uncle had been slain before they even arrived.

While they were gone, the Miyoshi launched a surprise invasion, hoping to catch us ill prepared. They rushed past the villages and towns, wanting to lay siege to our castle before the first snows fell, but thanks to the early warning provided by Moira's animals, we knew of their approach long before they reached us. When the army arrived, we were reinforced and able to repel the first two waves of their attack. Almonzo had remained with us as well, and lent his fearsome magic to our defense. It was then that Bluebolt appeared and launched his own attack upon the army, raining death upon their troops and casting them into chaos. When they tried to fall back and regroup, the peasants they had ignored attacked them from the rear and flanks. Their army was decimated and we accepted their surrender the minute it was offered.

Ever since, we have honored the battle with the Bluebolt Festival, in thanks for aiding us in more ways than we asked and at great risk to himself. Once the Dungeoneers returned we held a great victory celebration and made the joyous discovery that Khana was pregnant. She had been trying for years without success, but with the aid of some very special magic, they were at last expecting. I invited Khana and Almonzo to stay until their child was born, but they were eager to be home. They set sail soon after, and while I have heard that there was an incident on the way back to Balanor, they have not spoken much of it. Perhaps someday you will be able to get the story out of your Uncle.

I hope you have profited from this tale. Your Father and I miss you and hope you will come to visit soon. Until then, be well, and the Lord and Kami watch over you.

Love,

Mom


	10. Chapter 10

_The Dungeoneers and the associated setting is the product of a tabletop roleplaying campaign created and managed by Tim Richey. These stories are based on that campaign and were written at the behest of both Tim and the players involved._

* * *

The staff exploded in a flash of thunder and blinding light, and when it faded Moira found herself in a dark tunnel. She shook her head as she tried to steady herself. She had taken the brunt of the blast and had barely kept a grip on her axe. She was broken out of the haze by the sound of a woman screaming. 

Throwing caution aside, Moira rushed off in the direction of the noise. It didn't take her long to find the source. She stepped into a small chamber where two dwarves wearing ritualistic shrouds with odd markings were bearing down on a strange but fierce looking creature that stood between them and a dwarven woman great with child. One of the attackers was bound in heavy armor while the other was dressed in robes and brandished an evil looking knife.

Moira pounced on the warrior, giving him a glancing blow to the side. He whirled on her and took a swing with his sword, but Moira easily ducked away from it. The furry animal used the distraction to leap on the other dwarf, sinking its jaw into his arm. The priest screamed and began slashing at it with his knife while trying to beat it against the wall. Moira squared off against the fighter and they both raised their weapons to strike. She was faster and buried her axe deep into his chest. He stared at her as the life drained out of him and she brutally yanked her axe away.

The animal attacking the priest fell to the floor and the pregnant dwarf ran to it. Moira charged at the priest, and he held up his arms to ward her away. She was not deterred and she swung twice, leaving the dwarf on the floor in pieces. With the threat removed, she moved to the woman. "Are ye hurt?" she asked.

The woman was grief-stricken, cradling the limp body of the animal. "I am... unharmed," she whispered, "But could you help my bury my friend?"

"Of course," Moira said sympathetically, and they worked together to dig a hole to put it in. "Who were they?" Moira asked.

"Ghosts," the woman said cryptically. "From a past I'd hoped to forget."

Moira chewed that for a bit, but decided to leave it alone. "I know what it's like to lose a friend like this," she said. "My name's Moira. What's yer's?"

"Mary," she said quietly. "Mary Redforge."

Moira froze. That was impossible! "Ye can't be!" she said. "That's my ma's name, but she's..." she caught herself from saying 'dead' and concluded with, "...married to Duncan Redforge."

Mary's eyes softened and she looked at Moira with a new understanding. "I see..." she said. She gave her belly a gentle pat and said, "And you're-"

The surroundings faded away, turning black...

* * *

The staff exploded in a flash of thunder and blinding light, and when it faded Khana found herself in a deep wood. She heard an enraged roar behind her, and spun to see an elven woman in a pitched battle against a severely wounded dragon. The warrior was skilled, perhaps even a Bladesinger, but she was also in an advanced state of pregnancy and was having trouble holding the dragon at bay. Without hesitation Khana dove into the fray. 

Khana's blades spun like a whirlwind, dancing to and fro with deadly speed. She had inherited the slender swords from her uncle and they had always served her well. Something was wrong, however. This seemed familiar. Not something she remembered personally, but still, it struck memories. The dragon stepped back at the sudden appearance of a second opponent, but Khana pressed forward, her swords slicing through the dragon's scales and digging into its belly. It roared in anger and attempted to snap her in half with its massive jaws. She stepped aside and ducked under the claw swipe that followed.

The dragon began to grow sluggish, and the two women coordinated their final blow. Thrusting together, they drove their swords deep into the monster, and it roared in anguish. The memories began to grow clearer, and Khana suddenly realized what this was. Her mother, she was fighting alongside her mother on the last day of her life and the first day of her own. Somehow she had been knocked through time and she grew worried that she might be altering it, but it was too late if she had. At that final strike, They quickly pulled away as the beast stumbled and fell, crashing to the earth so hard the ground shook. It let out one last groan and finally fell silent.

With the dragon defeated, Khana turned to her mother, looking upon her for the first time, and simply stared for a bit. Then her sense returned to her and she casually moved her swords out of view before her mother recognized them. "Are you all right?" she asked.

The elven warrior panted with exhaustion, but said, "I will be fine. Thank you for your timely arrival." She suddenly cried out and clutched herself. "My baby is coming. I must return to the village."

"I will help you," Khana said, reaching for her.

"No!" she said. "Please! I can make it, but you must help my husband! He fell back there but he may yet live. Go and help him, please. I can't bear to lose him!"

Khana knew from the stories that her father was already dead, but nodded to her mother. "Yes, Bladesinger," she said, using the formal title as a show of respect, and left her. She knew her mother would be found by a search party, and give birth here in these woods. She also knew it would kill her, but there was nothing she could do about it. She followed the path of destruction the dragon had left until she found a spot that was wrecked beyond even what she had already seen.

Splinters and bare stumps littered the area, and in the center lay the unmoving figure of her father. He was a mess of claw and bite marks, but from the amount of blood on the sword at his side, he had done more than his share of damage in return. Khana knelt at his side and began to offer his last rites when the surroundings faded away, turning black...

* * *

The staff exploded in a flash of thunder and blinding light, and when it faded Tucker found himself in a poorly lit dungeon. Tucker sucked in his breath as unwelcome memories flooded him. This place... His hands clenched into fists, but he cautiously stayed within the shadows in the chamber. He was standing behind a huge gilded cage of strong, thick iron, and inside were his crewmates from that fateful day he had escaped from Redrum's keep. 

The men spoke amongst themselves in fearful tones as they watched the orcs in the chamber devour the First Mate of their ship. Tucker furrowed his brow. He didn't remember his shipmates being so scared. Then he managed to sort through the men and catch sight of his younger self. Huddled in the center, the teen was seething, grinding his teeth and completely self absorbed in his own sullen rage. That explained it, he didn't remember because he hadn't noticed it the first time. He moved closer to the cage and whispered to one of the men, deepening his voice so it would not be recognized.

"Don't say anything. I'm here to help. Take these and pass them along." He started giving the man his throwing knives, keeping a few for his own use.

"Jedidiah did this to you. He's running off like a coward right now." He regretted having to stretch the truth now that he knew the full story and had forgiven his brother, but he needed to get these men angry enough to fight. It was working, as they began grumbling to each other and fingering their blades.

"Your only chance is to rush them when they come to get another of you. Take them by surprise and try to overwhelm them," Every single one of these men were going to die. He had been the only one who survived this day, and it hurt to give the men false hope. "That Tucker boy is young and headstrong. He'll only get in the way. Tell him to get out and find his brother." The men closest to him nodded and the wait began for the orcs to open the cage door.

The wait was not long, and no sooner had the key turned than the men surged forward, slashing at their captors and orc blood flew freely. Tucker jumped into the fray as well, and when he saw his younger self dash for the exit he followed. Two orcs caught sight of him and also gave chase. They were catching up to the young Tucker and paying no mind to the other. He pulled two throwing knives and let them fly. They sailed true and caught each orc in the back just before they could swing. The orcs fell and his younger self finished his escape. Tucker gave a victorious grunt and drew his sword to return to the battle behind him. The surroundings faded away, turning black...

* * *

The staff exploded in a flash of thunder and blinding light, and when it faded Zach found himself on a familiar trail only a dozen yards from his childhood home. Snow coated the ground and trees, but the air itself was still. He heard screams, and the sounds of a swordfight, and in an instant he knew what was happening. 

His foster mother had told him the story many times, and now he was witnessing the death of his family firsthand. Six bandits surrounded the wagon while his father tried desperately to fend them off. His father's wife and daughter clung to each other in the wagon, for they were powerless against the highwaymen. The older woman focused her attention on her daughter, hoping somehow to give support to the girl who, despite being fresh into womanhood, was large with child and overcome with terror.

Zach's reaction was unusually irrational and immediate as decades of carefully concealed fury suddenly overwhelmed him. He pulled his beltknife and charged at the men, bellowing a challenge just as the lead bandit ran his father through with a fatal blow. Several of the bandits had already been wounded by the dying man, but when they turned to see the new arrival they realized he was no threat.

It only took two to overwhelm Zach. He made one clumsy swing and his hand was caught. An instant later he was driven into the ground with a knee in his back. He tried to struggle, but the men held fast, locking his wrists together and all but smothering his face in the snow. While he twisted and howled, they chuckled and tried to calm him down with pacifying words. Their demeanor toward him was as if he were a favored brother who had gone wild with drink, rather than a nameless stranger who wanted to kill them.

Everyone who met Zach felt an instant affection for him, and this was a situation where it maddened him.

The other bandits had pulled the women from the wagon, but instead of using swords, they were beating them because they wanted to have a little fun before they died. Tearing clothes and anguished screams pierced the air like arrows, and Zach wept with the need to end the horror. The men settled into the wagon to examine their wounds and wait their turn, and he noticed one of them eying a bottle of wine. Zach's composure returned, and he knew what to do.

He became limp and relaxed. "I'm a doctor," he said, panting from his previous efforts. "Let me treat those wounds or they'll get infected." They discussed the wisdom of allowing it, but found him to be persuasive and all believed him trustworthy, so they released him to do his work. He carefully walked over to the bottle of wine, trying to pretend he wasn't bothered by the brutality going on around him, and prepared a salve. As he opened the bottle to pour a small amount in as if it were a normal ingredient, he secreted a pinch of expanding nettle seeds into the wine. As he'd hoped, the leader told him to bring the bottle with him so that they could celebrate the successful raid.

The seeds were tiny, undetectable in the wine, but once ingested would quickly grow many times their own size and tear apart the victim's stomach. By the time the bottle had been passed around to everyone the first to drink began to notice a pain in his gut. Nothing could save them, and they each doubled over in pain as death began to take hold. They looked weakly at Zach's betrayal, but could no more than reach for him before their legs gave way.

Zach pushed past them to the young girl. In moments she would be dead. His skills would be little help, and in her condition death would be a mercy.

Her child, though, could still be saved. He bent and picked her up straining against the unexpected weight of her. The old witch's hut was just past the trees and over the hill. He set out for it, certain there had to be time.

There was. He carried her to the door and beat on it until his foster mother, Samantha Beard, answered. Seeing the need, she waved him inside where he laid the girl on a long table. The pregnant girl gasped one last time and died, but Zach and the witch were already working to save the baby. She seemed to recognize his skill and wordlessly handed him a knife. He sliced open the belly and was hit with a gout of blood, but he ignored it to clear away the skin until the baby was exposed. He started to reach for it, but realizing what... who it had to be, stopped.

"I... can't," he said, afraid of what might happen if he touched it. "There's a reason."

Samantha nodded and took over. He could not even use his magic, for it required him to touch the patient, but within moments the baby was awake and screaming. The woman looked at Zach and smiled. "You were just in time."

"The others, over the hill. They were killed."

She locked eyes with him. "You have saved this boy's life. What is your name?"

He paused. "Zachariah," he said quietly, when the surroundings faded away, turning black...

* * *

The staff exploded in a flash of thunder and blinding light, and when it faded Raina found herself standing outside an elaborate mansion. Heavy rain was falling and she could hear the sounds of pursuit from within. Suddenly, two servants burst through the door, carrying a small child with them. They saw Raina and said, "Please help us!" Just then a half dozen heavily armed guards appeared and leveled their swords at them. 

"Hand over the child!" The leader said.

"Not likely," Raina replied, and she heard a male voice from behind speak the same words at the same time. She lifted her sword as the man moved to stand alongside her and confront the guards. He gave Raina a brief nod and glared at the men.

"Tell Lady Castille that my daughter will not die this day," he growled.

Raina's eyes widened in shock. Lady Castille. Her own mother. The evil mage whom she had just taken her revenge on, who had fallen in league with Damien Luger and attempted to kill her friends dozens of times. The woman who had tried to kill her when she was just a child. She glanced back at the frightened child hiding in the servant's arms and recognized that it was indeed herself. Her father also looked between the two, and his face tightened, but he said nothing.

Raina looked at her father and nodded, raising her sword and hurling herself at the guards. She and her father cut through them as if they were nothing, one falling after another with each swing of their mighty weapons. Raina watched her father fight and felt joy at this chance to meet him. After all the time she had spent piecing together the mysteries of her heritage, and slaying her mother for her many crimes, being able to see her father lifted her heart and made it sing. The battle was almost over too quickly.

"She's gone mad," he said as the last guard fell. "And she will be coming before long. Please, help these two escape while I hold her back for as long as I can!" Without waiting for a response he charged into the mansion toward what Raina knew would be his last battle.

She looked at the two servants and said, "Let's go!" Needing no more encouragement than that, they took off in a desperate run. Raina moved to follow when the surroundings faded away, turning black...

The dragon, Big Red's son, looked her over as she reappeared in his cave. Everyone looked just as shaken as she, and she knew they had been through experiences just as private, just as personal. The dragon noted Raina's arrival with a somber, "That's all of you. Hopefully you haven't changed history too severely.

* * *

Dear Father, 

Forgive me for not making this a more formal letter, but I've done so much of that in person I wanted the chance to speak in a relaxed manner for a change. I did enjoy our time together last September, but the confines of our stations and the tight schedules we were on made spending time with you overrigid. Much as I would have liked to, it would have been awkward at the time to tell you the story of how we saved your life before I was even born.

Of course, you might still remember that, since we met you at one point, but we told you very little at the time. Basically is started when, well, let's just say someone important told us that history had been changed by Damien Luger and Lady Castille. They had gone back in time and killed you before you could be crowned Emperor of Balanor, making the Mage's Guild the dominant power on the continent.

We were transported to the source of the gateway, Big Red's old cave, and we began to see the first signs of the new timeline. Big Red's son had been slain and we were attacked by Luger's henchmen and Almonzo, who had apparently been raised by Lady Castille. Dame Khana found battling even an alternate version of her husband to be difficult, but the others were able to block his image out of our minds as we fought him. Once we had beaten them, we stepped through the gateway and appeared in the past.

Our schedule was most urgent, so we quickly found the proper authorities and explained the situation as best we could given the circumstances. This led to a brief but significant meeting with you where we explained that we intended to use myself as a decoy while you slipped into your coronation ceremony unnoticed. You allowed us to take your carriage and we set off, hoping to lure your attackers into the open.

At first it seemed we were having better luck luring your suitors out into the open. We met one particularly fetching young lady I would have really liked to have gotten to know better, but Dame Khana forbade it, so we continued on. Soon we met another group that began to approach, and when they did not slow at our request we prepared for battle.

The three in the lead were Damien Luger, one of his generals, and Lady Castille, and three henchmen followed behind. As Dame Khana, Sir George and Dame Raina charged forward, Dame Moira made the attacking horses fall asleep, dumping Luger and his allies into the dirt. Unfortunately, Lady Castille still managed to hit me with a really painful spell, but after Dame Raina got to her she never cast another spell again. Soon after Dame Khana killed Luger, making him finally pay for his many crimes against Westmarch and the Empire.

Not long after the battle, we were transported back to Big Red's cave, but arrived before Luger and the others had killed the old dragon's son, and we found ourselves fighting them once again. Even with the dragon's help, fighting them a second time was extremely difficult and we barely made it alive. I think it was Sir George who killed Luger in the second battle, or maybe it was him the first time. It's a bit confusing, but either way, Luger is dead.

After that we went to Blackmoor to ensure that the battle between the new King and the champion of the barbarian tribes was fair. There were a few attempts to cheat, but we exposed each of them and the King won honorably, cementing his authority. Actually, that might have happened before we went back in time. My memory is a little hazy on that.

Last summer was of course the assault on Redrum's keep. Only the Dungeoneers actually entered his stronghold and fought him, but I think just about everyone helped in the initial assault. Dame Moira rode her giant owl, directing Nimbus, the dragon and Baby, the roc while the others fought their way through on the ground. When they got to the gates of the stronghold and threw them open they found a group of orcs gathered around the dead body of Sir William. He had been skewered by a ballista bolt, of all things! It was then that Zach performed the greatest miracle of all, restoring life to Sir William's dead body.

Father, please don't take this the wrong way, for I know you see Sir William almost as a son, but you may want to ask him to retire. Ever since the assault on Pirate Isle, he has been captured every single time he has gone on his own to infiltrate an enemy. He is still one of your best Nightblades, but I fear his game is slipping.

Inside the stronghold, the Dungeoneers fought a hydra and Redrum himself, who as it turned out was half troll and thus very difficult for them to kill.

Though they all helped fight him, appropriately enough it was Sir George who delivered the killing blow. The whole of western Balanor breaths a sigh of relief at the end of his reign of terror.

Of course, after that was the Imperial Tournament. After Sir John and I were knighted most of the Dungeoneers announced their retirement and our group officially took over. Only Dame Moira stayed active. We invited her to join us, but apparently Sir Nigel got to her first and she has agreed to teach at the new Adventurer's School. We'll still ask her to come with us on certain missions because it's polite, but we have her apprentice, Thomas, to manage our animal handling needs.

There are no missions right now however. It is the dead of winter and we are all preparing for Sir George's wedding to Mariko. Knowing Tucker this will be a celebration to rival even your wedding. I hope to see you there next month.

Love,

Edwin


	11. Chapter 11

_The Dungeoneers and the associated setting is the product of a tabletop roleplaying campaign created and managed by Tim Richey. These stories are based on that campaign and were written at the behest of both Tim and the players involved._

* * *

9 years before Moira's wedding... 

The Hearthstone Inn of New Cestin was bustling with life and good spirits, but over at the bar there were three lonely men nursing their beers together in silence. The bartender quietly wiped the counter with a rag, prepared to fill the men's mugs, but otherwise leaving them to their own thoughts. The other patrons sat at their tables, joking and relaxing, but they too gave the men wide berth.

They were Almonzo, Tucker and William, three of the deadliest men in Balanor, and they were hiding from their wives. While a hangout that had been a second home to not only them, but also the women they were married to was not the most inconspicuous place they could go, they didn't want to actually look like they were hiding. This did not change the fact that everyone knew that was exactly what they were doing, but most were too polite or wise to make mention of it.

It had been several hours and the beer had managed to dull the instinct that told them they had crossed that line where the longer they waited, the more trouble they would be in by the time they actually did get home. They felt they were relatively safe as long as they didn't reach the point where their wives had to come and find them.

Earlier, they had complained about how unfair they wives were being, how they had no right to be mad at them for whatever reasons had driven them to flee. After that, once the beer began to loosen them up, they egged each other on, boasting about what they would say to put their wives in their places, knowing full well they would never actually challenge the women they loved with such swagger. Finally they had simply settled into slumping on their stools, sipping from their mugs and staring into space, making no sounds but for the occasional sigh.

Suddenly Moira burst through the front doors and into the bar, her face filled with so much joy the lamps seemed dim by comparison. "I'm getting married!!!" she announced in a frantic, giddy voice. The other bar patrons raised their glasses in a cheer at the news, but the three men at the bar did not move an inch.

The dwarf beamed as the other patrons raised a toast in her honor, then gave a quick, excited giggle before darting back out to find other people to share the news with. Tucker, Almonzo and William slowly turned and looked at each other. No words passed between them but they all slowly nodded in agreement. Without changing his expression, Tucker reached over and took the rag the bartender had been using and began to wipe down the empty stool beside him, cleaning it for the future companion who would occupy it someday.

* * *

Your Majesty, 

I hope the immigration of Harborlanders has not presented as much of an administrative strain to you as I myself have seen since they opened their gates. Almonzo's influence in the Mage's Guild has proven concrete, and many of the settlers have sent their children to our school hoping to gain admission. Moira and I have only just recently finished processing the latest batch. There have been over two hundred applications, however most were found unsuitable and we have redirected them to some of your finer military academies. It still comes as a surprise to have our school running at full capacity so soon after having been formed.

I understand the Baron Tucker's exile from Apan has put a slight strain in relations with our neighbors across the ocean. I have spoken with him and he accepts it but says his reasons for goading the noble into a duel were just, and I have to concur. It seems the noble was not well liked so I don't expect you will experience too many difficulties as long as you ensure he does business with them through other channels.

Sir John's Dungeoneers are managing their duties well. They were able to handle the retaking of University Island with a level of skill and efficiency equal to their predecessors. For several months they dealt with pirates and escaped zoo animals, both with a minimum of injuries. Most encouraging, as we've seen in the tournaments, they have displayed a level of teamwork and understanding of each other's abilities that Lady Khana's team never really warmed to.

They are still in Harborland, seeing to it that pirates do not interfere with the coalition of legal merchants that formed after Almonzo said the mages would no longer protect them. The slave quarter of Harborland is no more, and I am glad of the loss. I am confident the region will stabilize within a few years and will keep you abreast of Sir John's progress as news reaches me.

Your friend and servant,

Nigel

* * *

7 years before Moira's wedding... 

Whenever Moira gave new students and their parents the tour of Dungeoneer Mansion, she always wore her long red hair in a tight bun. Even amongst humans, she was young at barely more than thirty years and to her fellow dwarves she was still a whelp. She was used to not being taken seriously, so it had come as a great surprise when Sir Nigel asked her to assume the role of Headmistress for the new Adventurer's School. She hoped her hairstyle choice made her look more mature to the humans so that they'd be more willing to accept her authority.

As she led them past the massive double doors of the mansion she began pointing out various features. Certain trivial things, like architectural details, got only a passing mention. Moira focused on important locations like the classrooms, dining hall and sleeping quarters. Time was also devoted to pointing out certain unique amenities such as the haunted broom closet, where George, the illusionary lich would appear and shout "How dare you!" anytime the door was opened. She also pointed out the mansion's defenses and briefed them on what to do if it was ever attacked. This made some of the younger and non adventuring students a little nervous, but Moira assured them that they would be perfectly safe inside the walls of the school.

From there she began introducing them to the staff. She began with the teachers, including Sir Nigel and Zachery Beard, who had signed on full time as instructor of medicine since retiring from active duty as a Dungeoneer. After meeting all the teachers, the students met the rest of the mansion's occupants, most notably dear old Miss Brown, the housekeeper, just in time for the new students to eat the meal she had prepared. Moira was glad of the momentary repast, for the aroma of the food had been distracting the children for the past half hour of the tour.

Once lunch was finished, Moira took them outside to show them more of the grounds of the school. This was where much of their education would take place, from archery to animal handling. Moira herself taught several classes, and often wondered how she found time in the day to squeeze everything in, but somehow she had managed to fulfill her duties to Sir Nigel's satisfaction.

As the tour neared it end, Moira was smiling. This was the fourth time she had brought in new students and while her first few times had been nervous affairs, this one had gone smoothly. She could hardly believe it, but it seemed she was getting the hang of this. Looking at the assembled group, she began to wrap everything up by asking if anyone had any questions.

Just then she was tackled by Dodger, an orangutan she had befriended while in Apan. The ape was playful, rambunctious, and had a habit of getting into trouble at the worst times. Moira struggled to escape from his clutches, yelling curses and forgoing any further efforts to present a dignified front. The children and parents stared in shock as Moira, hair unbound and in complete disarray, held a hand up and said, "It's okay! This really doesn't happen that often!"

* * *

Your Majesty, 

It was good to see you at Prince Edwin's wedding. Though we are all glad of his father's rule, when the time comes, Edwin will make a fine Emperor, I am sure. Let us all pray that he and his wife are blessed with child soon so that the line of succession is secure, and, if you will forgive the attempt at humor, so that he is not pressured to quit the Dungeoneers.

If I may be more serious, however, it is my sad duty to inform you that Enshu has been slain while the Dungeoneers were dealing with the giant raids. A mountain giant warlord had captured the daughter of an important fire giant, and he bravely sacrificed his life to rescue her. We will be holding a memorial for him in a few weeks, and we would all be honored if you can attend.

As for the matter of the giants themselves, the hill and mountain giants have been defeated, and the fire giant king has signed the treaty as written. It is a shame an agreement could not be reached on what to do about the orcs, but at least trading can begin again and we have their assurances they will no longer deal in slavery.

I hope you and your family are well, and will write again soon.

Your friend and servant,

Nigel

* * *

5 years before Moira's wedding... 

Sara Tucker ran through the woods, gazing with a child's curiosity at the myriad sights that surrounded her, all the while unaware of the frantic search her father was directing for her. She stepped on tiny legs over mossy rocks and chased a butterfly through a tiny glen. Suddenly she heard a twig snap and she froze, looking around. Finding nothing, she continued her pursuit.

A man in ill-fitting leathers peered around a large tree at the little girl. He had a sack with a rabbit he had just poached, but he recognized Sara and decided that if he was patient, an even greater fortune would come his way. Just a little closer...

Sara leapt at the butterfly as it rested against a tree trunk. It flew away from her clumsy swipe and she turned to follow it when the man darted his hand out wrapped it around her chest. She screamed for a second before his hand clamped over her mouth.

"Shush, you," he said, lifting her close. "You'll fetch me a nice hefty rans-" Sara's struggles went from instinctive to violent, and she shook and twisted and kicked at her captor. "Stop, that you! I'm not going to hurt- OW!" Sara bit deep into his hand and he dropped her to the ground. As soon as she was free she began running back into the glen.

The man spat a curse and chased after her. Sara ran as quickly as she could, but she was no match for him and he knocked her to the ground after only a few yards. "You little-!" He yelled as he pulled his knife. "If you want to fight like a rabbit, I'll cut you like one!" He reached down with the knife and Sara's eyes widened as her struggles became desperate. Inches from her neck, he paused at the sound of a deep, menacing growl.

His hands suddenly became very still, and slowly he lifted his eyes toward the source of the noise. Standing just a few yards away was Moira, arms crossed and glaring at him with eyes that projected so much fury he felt the blood drain from his face. Beside her were two of her closest animal friends, Bandit, a wolverine, and Dodger, the orangutan. "Let the girl go," Moira said evenly.

The man leapt to his feet, holding Sara against him like a shield, with his knife close to her face. "Come any closer and I'll kill her!" he warned.

Moira's expression didn't change. She just looked at him and spoke a single word. He felt a slight tingle, but nothing else. When she started walking toward him he tried to thrust his knife against Sara's neck, but his hand moved like it was swimming through honey. He tried to look down and see if something was restraining him, but his head moved just as slowly.

When Moira reached him she calmly plucked the knife from his grasp and lifted Sara into her arms. The tiny four year-old hugged her closely and stared at the man as she was carried away. The man's face slowly assumed an expression of terror as he realized he couldn't even beg for mercy, but when Moira snapped her fingers and the two animals bore down on him he found that he could still scream.

* * *

Your Majesty, 

According to the reports I have received, the Dungeoneers' trip to the Savage Lands has been a mix of success and failure. I regret to inform you that the most notable loss has been the sinking of the New Cestin Venture.

Apparently while they were there, word reached them of a rogue dragon leading several genies in attacks and raids. The Dungeoneers, with the help of Baron Tucker, Sir William and Lady Raina, were able to find and slay this dragon and had believed the issue resolved. Sir George concluded his business with the Sultan and they began their journey back to Balanor.

However, while they were sailing home, the "Rude Snail" was ambushed by a pack of dragons, who succeeded in sinking it, but were themselves slain in the process. Dame Raina and her companions returned to the Savage Lands where they managed to slay four young green dragons while Captain Bowshaft and the Dungeoneers salvaged the magical engine. The wreckage had been surrounded by a contingent of kuo-toa, but some aquatic elves living beneath the ocean offered to help and the engine was recovered.

I am pleased to inform you that the keep in Bordertown blocking the pass is nearly finished. The dwarves have been most helpful in this, I only hope that when times grow sour and the giants no longer like the terms of our treaty that it will be enough to keep them out of Westmarch.

Your friend and servant,

Nigel

* * *

2 years before Moira's wedding... 

Moira sat at the desk, looking across it at Khana and Raina and wondered how she could slip away without their noticing. "Couldn't we do this later?" she asked them.

"No," Raina said with characteristic bluntness.

Khana looked at the dwarf with a sigh. "Moira, you've already waited seven years. We have to plan this now or everything might not be ready in time."

"What's t' get ready?" Moira said. "Dwarven weddings aren't that dressy. All ye need is to invite everyone, and I did that ages ago. The only real concern is making sure there's enough to eat and drink at the party that follows."

Khana shook her head emphatically. The strawberry blonde half-elf had gotten used to her friend's humility and occasional bouts of low self-esteem, and wasn't about to let her short-change herself on the most important day of her life. "This isn't an ordinary wedding, Moira. This is _your_ wedding. You're the Hero of New Cestin," Moira suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at that. "You're a knight. The King's going to attend, perhaps even the Emperor. They're going to want to see your dream coming to life!"

"Adding a personal touch is part of the tradition," Raina reminded her, taking a sip of her tea.

"Yours will be the biggest wedding since Edwin's," Khana declared, "You're obligated to at least try to make it as spectacular!"

"Are ye daft, woman?" Moira blurted as she squirmed in her seat. "I'll not turn my wedding into a bloody competition!"

Khana waved her off. "It's not competing, it's respect. People will think you didn't even care about it if you make yours drab and boring."

"You'll remember this day for the rest of you're life," Raina said and slid the parchment across the desk toward Moira.

And so their arguments continued, Khana and Raina covering the need from every angle, leaving Moira no room to sneak away and dismissing every objection she could think to voice. The two women had grown up together, knew how to play off each other, and while they didn't have the same level of sisterhood with Moira, they knew exactly which buttons to press to get her to eventually cave.

"You may as well just do it," Raina said. "We're not letting you leave until you do."

"All right, fine!" Moira grumbled, snatching up a feathery quill. She thought for a bit, staring at the parchment, and hoping something would just magically appear on it. Khana and Raina leaned forward in their seats, breathlessly anticipating what she would write. Almost despite herself, Moira made a little "hm" noise as an idea struck her. Her eyebrows lifted and a small smile crept across her face as she slowly dipped the quill downward.

An hour later Raina and Khana were seated at the table, wearing stunned expressions as they watched their dwarven friend, unable to look away. They saw Moira dance the quill along the parchment, giggling a bit maniacally, and realized they had created a monster. With a triumphant gesture, Moira finished listing items and turned towards her friends with a wild gleam in her eyes, and they suddenly changed to the type of grin one presents to a wild dog while feeling around for a rock to throw.

The dwarf displayed the page to Khana and said, "There! It's done! Can ye do it?"

Khana shot Raina a worried glance as she said, "Moira, I-"

"Can. Ye. Do. It?!!"

"Yes!" Khana said helplessly. She could hardly believe this was happening and wondered when exactly they had lost control of the situation. She looked at Raina again and silently mouthed the word, "Doctor?"

Raina shook her head and mouthed back, "Exorcist," earning her a scolding look in return from the half-elf.

Moira gifted them with a goofy little smile and said, "Okay." Handing them the papers she told her friends, "Did ye want to stay a bit longer and chat?"

"No!" Raina and Khana said in unison, immediately following the outburst with weak excuses for why they had to be somewhere else before beating a hasty retreat out of the room. Moira watched them leave and waited until the door was fully shut before bursting into laughter.

The two women were among the few who actually knew about Moira's unusual fondness and talent for pranks and practical jokes, and the dwarf was happy to see she could still catch them off guard. Now that she didn't have them breathing down her neck she walked back to the desk and began to slowly and thoughtfully jot down what she really wanted to do with her wedding.

* * *

Your Majesty, 

Please allow me to start this letter with the joyous news of the birth of Sir John and Mary's son Andrew. The boy is healthy and loud. You are of course invited to his baptism next month.

Sir George has recently returned with news of the Worldship we all believed had been sunk. I have included his report with this letter. I have also received word from Lady Raina that she is looking into the rumors of the mysterious rogue called "Silver Claw," in her barony.

Sir John's Dungeoneers have ventured twice into the orc lands to deal with a group of brigands known as the Black Dagger clan, as per the treaty with the fire giants. The first mission was successful, bringing down the base they had erected, but the remnants of the clan managed to kidnap the fire giant king's son and the Dungeoneers were called for again. On the second expedition the Black Dagger clan was completely eliminated

I fear our favor with the fire giants is already beginning to wane and will continue to keep tracking the situation. Until then, may good health continue to stand by your side.

Your friend and servant,

Nigel

* * *

6 months before Moira's wedding... 

Moira stared across her desk at Prince Charles and tried to keep a lid on her temper. The boy had been enrolled in the Adventurer's School for less than three weeks and had already crossed the line more than once with the staff and his fellow students. Most had been afraid to even mention it to Moira because of his high rank, but no matter what, order had to be maintained, and discipline had to be enforced when the need called for it.

Punishments were still a difficult matter for the dwarf. The closest thing to children of her own were her animal friends, especially Dodger, but keeping them in line required a far different method. Moira found herself relying on the experienced Miss Brown for advice on how to deal with problem children, and so far it had been an effective strategy. Only twice since the school was opened more than half a decade ago had Moira ever had to deliver a spanking, and this was about to be the third.

The young teenager glared at her with smug defiance. She wondered if he had actually listened to a single word of her lecture. Realizing she was getting nowhere, she decided it was time to proceed to the next stage and rose from her seat. She walked over to a bookshelf and took the switch off the peg from which it hung. "Lay over the chair and drop yer britches," she ordered.

Charles' eyes nearly leapt out of their sockets when she started to approach him. "You wouldn't dare!" he said. "I'm the Crown Prince!"

"Yer a _student_," Moira clarified. "In _my_ school, and ye'll do as I say.""If you touch me, I'll have you exe-" he paused, not quite bold enough to threaten her with death and instead finished with, "I'll have you banished from the kingdom!"

In a smooth motion Moira lifted Charles off the seat, took his place on it and laid him across her knees. He was shocked at how easily she was able to do it despite his height advantage, and tried to struggle out of her grip, but it was like trying to escape from a vice. "Ye'll take what's coming to ye, and I hope for yer father's sake ye learn yer lesson." With that she hiked his breeches down and smacked his bottom with the switch.

The sudden pain shocked Charles out of his struggles and his head jerked upright. The disbelief was plain on his face as he slowly turned to look at Moira, who continued to hold him down. She brought the switch down again, and against his will, a tear welled up and drifted down his cheek.

Moira somberly looked down at him and said, "Now get to yer room and stay there until tomorrow. Dinnae ever give me a reason to see you in here again, understand?"

Charles slowly nodded, lifted his pants, and fled from the room. Moira heaved a great sigh and returned the switch to its place, hoping she wouldn't have to use it ever again. She then walked to the door to her office and stepped outside. Surrounding the door were more than a dozen students and two teachers, who all stared at her in amazement and a little fear. They had all too obviously been eavesdropping on the punishment and none of them could believe she had dared to spank the Prince.

She waited a moment for them to realize on their own that they were staring at her like idiots. When it became clear they would need her help she said, "Don't ye all have someplace t' be?"

The halls were empty within seconds.

* * *

Your Majesty, 

Sir John has informed me that he and his fellow Dungeoneers wish to retire. They say they will be available for emergencies, and are grateful for the service they have provided to the kingdom. They wish to pursue other interests however, and I believe they have earned that privilege. I have asked Thomas to sign on as a regular teacher at the Adventurer's School and he has graciously agreed.

Please inform me if you would like to hold a ceremony to mark their retirement and I will make the arrangements.

Your friend and servant,

Nigel

* * *

1 month before Moira's wedding... 

"Oh, Moira. It's beautiful!"

The dwarf smiled at her friends as they admired her in her wedding dress. Modifying it to compliment her short, stout frame had been a challenge for the dressmaker, but the results on display proved it could be done. Moira did a little twirl so they could see it from every angle and Khana and Raina cooed their approval.

Though neither had mentioned it in Moira's presence, both women had been fearful that their friend would request a dress that imitated the animals she admired so much. They half expected her to walk out decked in furs and feathers, and perhaps even scales, something that would have not only been gaudy on a tall, slender woman, but worn by Moira would have inevitably drawn comparisons to a chicken or worse. Surprised and impressed by the actual dress, they found it difficult to stop complimenting her.

The dress was simply astonishing. It enhanced Moira's figure by complimenting her curves while abbreviating the effect of her height, broad shoulders, and muscular features. It was a sleeveless A-line dress with thin shoulder straps and a smooth waist, made of pure satin, and while the bare shoulders were a bit shocking, everyone was forced to admit it looked good on her. Since it was a dwarven ceremony, the color of the dress was not restricted to white, and so instead the dress was a brilliant golden color, accented with silver and jade. Pearls and diamonds decorated the bodice, while the lower half was smooth, given a little body by the short train that barely reached beyond her legs. The shiny fabric was further accentuated by a subtle hint of glitter, such that the dress sparkled in the light. She had golden slippers and shoulder length gloves and her headpiece was a bejeweled, thin crown that lay softly on her head and radiated out from the sides like a fish's sidefins.

Khana rose from her seat to get a better look. "You look like a walking piece of jewelry! Coldsteel's going to love it!" Moira's fiancée was a miner headquartered in Raina's barony, and had a fondness for all the riches of the earth.

Raina also rose, and after admiring the headpiece, asked, "Why no veil?"

Moira shrugged. "Well, I do think it's sweet and all when ye humans do that, but it's nae really part of a dwarven ceremony." The seamstress began examining the fit for any last minute adjustments that might be needed, and Moira shifted to allow her room. "Besides-"

Suddenly the door open and Coldsteel started to walk in, "So, how does my little peach loo-"

Khana and Raina both let out an alarmed shriek and darted between the dwarf and Moira. "Get out! Get out!" they yelled, shooing him back through the door and slamming it shut. Khana spun and braced her back against it, looking at Moira with an expression of pure indignation.

Moira herself was a little surprised, and asked, "What the blazes did ye do that for?"

"It's bad luck," Raina explained earnestly.

Moira looked at them quizzically, and then her expression changed to one of amusement. "Oh, that! Ye silly, daft girls, dwarves don't do that. Now ye've gone and scared the poor dear. Go and fetch him so ye can apologize."

Raina glanced over at Khana. "You go," she said.

"I will not!" the half-elf said indignantly. "You're the one who pushed him."

"Are ye two lasses ever going to grow up?" Moira said, rolling her eyes. "Go, afore I do it and risk tearing this dress." At that comment the seamstress shot the two noblewomen a panicked look and they grudgingly left the room.

Moira sighed. Her friends were as dear to her as always, but they were getting a little too excited about the wedding. "Ye might want to help get me out of this thing afore they get back. If they keep on like this they might just kill him," she said with a sigh.

The seamstress chuckled, but said nothing.

* * *

Your Majesty, 

I regret to inform you that we have been forced to expel Prince Charles from the Adventurer's School. We have had numerous difficulties with him in the four months he's been enrolled and while we have tried to work with him to correct his behavior, his most recent violation was too extreme to allow him to remain. We simply cannot tolerate assaults on other students, particularly against non-adventuring students. I hope you understand the need for us to make this decision.

There are some adventuring students who have banded together and have begun referring to themselves as "New Dungeoneers." They are led by Harga, the eldest of them. Also in the group are a half-orc named Mazra, Zampher, the daughter of the local glassblower, Alex Storm and two students who were accepted when the settlers from Harborland arrived; Theida Ralls and Kristin. I'm fairly certain that in a few years they will be joined by Lady Raina's daughter, Alexandra.

Moira has been keeping an eye on them and I shall trust her judgment on which missions to send them on. Until then, be well.

Your friend and servant,

Nigel

* * *

5 days before Moira's wedding... 

"So after Baby knocked him into the pit with me I looked at him and said, 'Well, you've caught yourself a Dungeoneer. Now what are you going to do with him?'"

Everyone burst into laughter as Tucker finished his story. Gathered in the dining hall of the mansion were all of Moira's old companions, together in the first full Dungeoneer reunion in ten years, and they had naturally gravitated toward retelling old stories of their exploits together. The feast prepared by Miss Brown was as delicious as ever and Moira found she hadn't stopped smiling since the evening began.

"Well, he eventually answered that question," Almonzo said, lifting his wineglass. "He replaced you."

"That he did," Tucker agreed, smiling. "And John proved a fine leader for his group." He lifted his glass and said, "May they enjoy their retirement as much as we have."

They others drank to that, and Khana looked at Moira and said, "Have you ever considered retiring, Moira? You don't adventure much now anyway."

Moira shook her head slightly. "Aye, I've been busy with running the school, but I still enjoy being a Dungeoneer. Besides, unlike the rest of ye, I've never killed the 'sworn enemy from my past' like the rest of ye did before ye retired."

The others leaned forward in interest. "You never mentioned a sworn enemy," Raina said.

"I don't think I've got one," Moira said with a grin. "I suppose that means I'll never get to retire." She laughed and the others joined in.

"Well spoken," William said. He turned back to Tucker and quipped, "I hear you had another baby last year"

Tucker beamed. "Anya," he said.

"Congratulations," Almonzo said. "That's your fifth so far, isn't it?" Tucker's only response was a proud nod. "You must be running poor Mariko ragged. Perhaps you should bear the next one and give her a break."

"No," Tucker said humorlessly while the others laughed.

Zach got a thoughtful look on his face and said, "I bet if I worked on it I could-"

"_No_," Tucker repeated, more firmly this time.

Khana looked at Moira and said, "Well, I heard Alex and his friends have begun calling themselves the 'New Dungeoneers.' Any chance they could be the real thing someday?" Khana was always eager for news of her son.

Moira smiled. "Aye, I've taken them on a few trips into the wilderness and they've done well for such wee things. Harga leads them. They just had their first unsupervised adventure last week, as a matter of fact. Poor Theida got a bad case of poison oak." She chuckled a bit and Zach winced at the memory of treating the girl's rashes. "I've told King James and he wants me to reinforce the idea that they're a team. Who knows, maybe in a few years they'll earn their sashes." Her eyes sparkled and she emptied her wine glass. "Now tell me again about that winter ye spent with Daniel Cordaine," she said with a wicked grin.

"An expert on giants," the others said in unison, "Noted in some circles!" They all fell back into laughter as they launched once more into their favorite stories.

* * *

The night before Moira's wedding... 

All the women in the room applauded as Moira finished unwrapping her last gift and thanked Mary for it. The party was being held at Raina's house while Coldsteel's brother ran the bachelor party, and gifts, food and decorations were everywhere.

"Thank ye, everyone," Moira said. "All yer gifts are lovely."

Khana gave a little smile and said, "Just think, Moira. By this time tomorrow you'll be married! I still don't see how you could wait nine years."

Moira shrugged. "I feel as if things are rushed as they are. I'm not even as old as most dwarven courtships last, and I certainly never expected to fall in love so young."

Princess Allison, Edwin's wife, piped in with, "Oh, tell us about when you knew you were in love," and the other women nodded their agreement.

A softness fell over Moira as she summoned the memory. "It was the first time I saw him after our trip to Apan. He was just returning from the mines, covered in dirt and sweat, and he saw me and waved hello. He started greeting Bandit like always when he noticed Kone. He'd never seen a crane before and thought she was just lovely. It was the first time I'd ever seen him honestly admire an animal, rather than putting effort into it in order to impress me. I knew that at that moment he'd caught a glimpse of what I feel every day, and that's when I fell in love with him."

The others nodded their approval at the story, except Sakura, one of the former servants who'd been brought over from Apan, who asked, "What happened next?"

Moira chuckled. "Dodger decided he wanted to wrestle Coldsteel and caught him completely off guard. He tried to play it off, but I could tell how upset he was."

Everyone laughed and Raina said, "Men are such bad liars."

Khana, still excited about the future, decided to ask, "So, how soon do you plan to have children?"

"I dinnae know," Moira said. "I haven't really thought about being a mother. I'm not sure I'm ready yet. Maybe in forty or fifty years. No more than a hundred." This drew a flurry of protests from her friends, who all wanted to hold a dwarven baby in their hands before they were using canes to stand with. When the objections finally settled, Moira finally decided to venture with a question she was a little nervous about. "Actually, since we're near the subject, I was wondering if any of ye had some advice for the wedding night."

The other women stopped and stared at her in complete silence until Raina blurted, "You're kidding, right?"

Moira blushed a little and said, "I wouldnae joke of such things. I was hoping ye'd have some advice for a new bride."

Mary, just as stunned as the others, said, "Just do what you always do, except hug him more."

The blush deepened. "Ye dinnae understand," she said. "I'm... I've never..."

"Oh my God!" Raina exclaimed, and Khana herself was too shocked at Moira's admission to chide her friend for taking the Lord's name in vain. "How is that possible? You've been engaged for nine years!"

"So?" Moira said, becoming defensive. "All of ye went to yer wedding beds as virgins, didn't ye?"

The women glanced at each other. Some had guilty expressions, while others simply looked amused. All of them shook their heads and said some reluctant version of "No," with Allison adding, "Don't get us wrong, we think it's okay to wait for the wedding night, but we wouldn't have waited nine years!"

Moira just looked at them helplessly. "Please?" she asked.

The women began to all speak at once. "It's all about-"

"What you need to do first is-"

"Edwin loves it when I-"

"Don't worry about-"

"Mariko, you _do_ that?!"

"My favorite is-"

"If anything goes wrong, just-"

Moira held her hands up and said, "One at a time, please! I cannae understand a word any of ye are saying!"

"Sorry," Mary said sheepishly, before taking the initiative. The rest of the night progressed with the ladies taking turns with their advice, and Moira listening with interest, until the hours grew heavy and the moon hung low in the horizon.

* * *

The day of Moira's wedding was clear and sunny, the grass lush and green, and a gentle, cooling breeze flowed happily through the clearing. The guests had gathered around the central lake of the New Cestin Animal Preserve. They had been encouraged to bring their favorite pets, and a veritable menagerie of animals stood alongside their masters in the massive gathering. At the edge of the lake sat the animals who lived in the park, predators on one side, herbivores on the other, and thanks to the efforts of Thomas and others, all the animals were perfectly behaved. 

In the center of the lake was a massive floating platform covered in summer flowers of red and gold and ringed with wrought iron figurines representing several animals in gentle poses. Waiting on the platform were King James, Coldsteel, his brother, Tucker, Almonzo, Raina and Khana, all dressed in their finest. A full orchestra played for the audience, one of the largest that had ever assembled in Westmarch, full of common folk and nobility alike, as well as every dwarf living in Brunde and the neighboring baronies. The little hill that sloped from the lake gave everyone a suitable view of the event, and they patiently awaited Moira's arrival.

Then, from the south came Nimbus, flying low, and riding on him was little Sara Tucker, wearing an elaborate dress of white and silver. Both she and the dragon she rode wore wreaths of flowers, and as they circled over the crowd she showered them with petals thrown from her basket. Slowly, he settled onto the platform and Sara stepped off and took her place next to Khana.

After Nimbus took his place at the top of the hill, Baby and Snowfeather appeared. The roc and giant owl glided toward the platform with Sir Nigel proudly riding the first and Moira demurely astride the other, sidesaddle. They flew together with precision, and when they reached the platform, Baby gently settled down while Snowfeather hovered above it. Once Sir Nigel had dismounted and Baby had gone to join Nimbus, Moira was finally brought to the platform, where she slid off the owl's back to murmurs of appreciation from the crowd. As Snowfeather flew off, Moira took Sir Nigel's arm and they approached the King.

"Who gives this woman away on this day, to be married to this man, Coldsteel Ironbeard?" The king intoned.

"I do," responded Sir Nigel, giving the king a brief nod and stepping away. Moira then walked up to Colsteel and stood beside him. Her long red hair had been wound into a "V" shaped bun hinged at the base of her neck, with two locks of hair kept loose to frame her face. She smiled at the dwarf, and he smiled back.

King James gave each a brief look, and continued. "Dame Moira Redforge and Coldsteel Ironbeard, step forward and pass the chain. At their feet, toward the King, was a long, thick chain, with the crest of each clan engraved onto a small plaque within the end links. After they stepped over it, Tucker and Coldsteel's brother took the ends of the chain and brought them around, forming a loop around the couple. Then Almonzo approached, and the King said, "This chain, once forged together, will represent the bond you two have also forged. Take hold of it now if you wish to continue."

The two did as instructed, taking the chain in their hands as the Tucker and the dwarf stepped away. Almonzo reached into a pocket in his robes and withdrew a link, made of the same strong steel as the chain, but painted gold. He slowly hooked each side of the chain to the link and then incanted a few words. The link grew red hot in his grasp but he was unburned, and he gently pressed the link until it was fused and the chain became one. He stepped away and Moira and Coldsteel slowly lowered the ring of chains back to the ground.

"You are now one family," The King said. "Step out of the ring, that the world may greet you." Hand in hand, they walked out of the ring, and the crowd began to cheer. Unseen by anyone, the ghost of Moira's mother watched the ceremony, and a field of magic radiated before her like an eye. Miles away, in the high northern mountains of the dwarven lands, Duncan Redforge sat on a stone ledge with his second wife, hands clasped together. Projected onto the rock wall across the chasm was the image of the ceremony.

"Thank ye, Mary," he whispered. As a small tear rolled down his cheek, his wife gave his hand a little squeeze.

* * *

40 minutes after Moira's wedding... 

The dwarves attending the wedding had pulled the party into full swing, and the humans were making a good effort to keep up with them. Moira gazed into her husband's eyes and smiled. She never wanted the day to end.

Coldsteel's brother rose and offered a toast to the new couple, and everyone lifted their glasses. Moira hardly heard a word of it. She soon realized, however, that she could not stay in her own private world forever, as just about everyone wanted to stop by and congratulate her. Moira politely spoke with each of them while patiently waiting for the time when the party could continue without them.

The wait would be long. Cakes had to be cut, more toasts had to be offered, and silly little games had to be played. At one point Khana thrust a bouquet into Moira's hands and instructed her to toss it to a crowd of unmarried women gathered together. The young dwarf good naturedly did as she was bid and turned her back, tossing the flowers high over her shoulder. Sara was the one who caught it, though the precocious nine year-old deliberately knocked down two women twice her age to do it. It took much more prodding to get Coldsteel to do the same with the men, but moments later an extremely embarrassed young Prince Etienne was the new owner of a frilly garter.

While Moira and Coldsteel were allowed to slip away before the evening was done, the party itself lasted four days. The dwarves kindly chose not to extend the celebration further, to which the exhausted humans were grateful.

* * *

1 year after Moira's wedding... 

"Hold the bow steady, Alexandra, and focus on the target," Moira said to Raina's daughter. The girl squinted and loosed her bow, sending the arrow flying through the air. The shaft imbedded itself into the target, just about two rings away from the center. "Good, yer improving. Try it again."

Just then one of Thomas' students ran up and said, "Dame Moira! There are two men here to see you. I think they're druids!"

Druids? Moira thought. What business did they have with her? "All right, Brian. Tell them to wait in my office. I'll be along in a minute," she said. She rubbed her back and thought that it might be nice to sit down anyway. The pregnancy had taken her by surprise, but she had been delighted at the news, or at least, she had been delighted ten months ago. Now that she was weeks away from giving birth she just wanted it to be over with. Humans certainly had it easy with their shorter pregnancies.

It took her longer than she expected to waddle her way back to the mansion, but she found the druids waiting patiently in her office and she slowly eased herself into her seat. "Sorry to have kept ye waiting," she said.

The men introduced themselves, and the taller one, who seemed to be in charge, wasted no time in getting to the reason for their visit. "We came as soon as we heard you were with child."

Moira's expression darkened, and she said, "How does my being pregnant come as any concern of yers?"

The elder druid said, "We have discovered that your family line is very old, and will play an important role in future events. We believe you are the on who figures most prominently in that role."

This had not been the first time someone had told Moira in cryptic terms that she was somehow special. Ever since she had found out that her father feared for his family's safety because of it, though, she had stopped trying to uncover the secret. She gave them both a hard look and said, "What future events? What do ye know? Are ye the reason my Pa doesn't want me returning? Tell me!"

The smaller druid shook his head and said, "These things we do not know. The truth will be revealed at the proper time, but we know that your mother comes from a very old and powerful dwarven clan and you have inherited her legacy."

"What are ye talking about?" Moira said. "She had three other children before I came along. What makes ye so sure I'm the one yer looking for?"

"Because you are her only daughter," the elder said. "The line runs through the women, and that is why we are concerned. If you have a daughter, she may not be old enough to handle her responsibility when the time comes. We are prepared to train you, however. All we ask is that you let us perform a ritual to determine the gender of your child."

Moira leaned forward in her seat and slowly lifted herself out of it. She had heard enough. "You keep yer filthy magic off of my baby! If yer so hot to know the gender I'll have Doctor Beard check it and send ye a message. After that I want ye off of these grounds."

The younger druid seemed ready to object, but the elder placed a hand on his shoulder. "We understand, and apologize for upsetting you." They rose to leave when he paused and said, "Oh, have the elves contacted you yet?"

Moira tracked his every move as she said, "Narry a word."

"Good," he said, satisfied. "They are fools. Please avoid them if you can." With that he and his companion left and Moira allowed herself to return to her padded chair. This legacy was really starting to grate on her nerves.

* * *

5 years after Moira's wedding... 

Moira listened patiently as Sir Nigel and Almonzo explained the situation, but she was very upset with what they were saying. There were two potential threats on the horizon, one which threatened the Empire, the other potentially the whole world, and plans were being put into motion to address both of them. Moira herself knew very little of some of the things they mentioned; the Kaimerion Empire, the Dracone Realm, the World Eater. Still, all these things were clearly very serious and she tried to understand as much as she could.

They only had the beginnings of a plan, but certain things had already been set into motion and they wanted to know what role Moira wanted to play. The king of Blackmoor was of Kaimerion blood, and long ago his ancestors had challenged the Empire with ruthlessness and fanaticism. The line had been generally lost for centuries, and their fear was that this king would raise another such army. Were he to do that, the end result would certainly be the bloodiest war in the history of Balanor. It had been decided that the best way to avoid this was to ferret out the nobles who would side with Blackmoor and deal with them before an army could be raised.

The other threat was the World Eater, of which the mages of University Island knew little, but what they had learned was deeply troubling. According to the ancient texts they had discovered, the World Eater was some kind of force, a being of immense power that traveled between worlds and violently consumed all the magic on it, leaving much of the rest of the planet dead in the process.

The plans to deal with both of these situations involved an elaborate, and risky game of politics, church policy, and subterfuge. Moira believed she could handle this. She'd done something similar when she played at being a guard and mercenary when the Dungeoneers invaded Pirate Isle, but she had other concerns.

"My husband and son," she said. "I want yer assurances they'll be protected. I'll understand if they're caught in the path of a general uprising, but I'll have yer words that they'll not be targeted specifically as a result of my choices here tonight, or I'll pack them up and we'll hide in the mountains with the Ironbeards."

Sir Nigel gave her a serious look. "You know that if this is as serious as we think it is, they won't be safe, even there, and we need your help in this."

"Then ye'd best give me yer word. If ye think I'm being unreasonable, ye'll not like to see me if one of them falls to an assassin's blade," Moira said, refusing to budge.

Almonzo looked at Sir Nigel and nodded. "All right, Moira," he said. "You have our promise. Now, shall we go over the details of what you'll be doing?"

* * *

Your Majesty, 

Alex's Dungeoneers have grown slightly since you commissioned them. Baron Tucker's daughter, Sara, has joined the group. She is only fourteen and she clashes with the others on a regular basis, but they have allowed her to join because she was causing more problems by being excluded and they hope some real world experience will modify her attitude.

Now that they are operating on their own, I am redirecting my work toward the situations of Blackmoor and the World Eater. I continue to receive reports from University Island and they have not alleviated my concerns. I have chosen a few students who seem good prospects for the new group Moira will lead, and they should be ready within a year, I expect.

I have also been told that far from here is a boy who has been raised by some of Damien Luger's surviving followers. This boy may actually be his son, and if so, some action will need to be taken to contact him, assuming he hasn't been fully corrupted already.

There is still much to do and the information is scarce, but we do not know how much time we have to accomplish our goals. All we know is that these fears we have kept are no longer "ifs" or "maybes." It is starting.

It is starting, and we must be ready. We will be ready.

Your friend and servant,

Nigel


End file.
